Desperate to Connect
by fairfarrenlovelylydia
Summary: Sansa is in need of security since the last of her family has been butchered at the Red Wedding; but what if Baelish cannot come through with his promise? She develops a new strategy in the fight for her survival; one that will impact the lives of her and Tyrion Lannister forever. Slight AU. Mix of Book and Show. SansaxTyrion. M for later chapters.
1. Planning

**Welcome to this little _Game of Thrones_ piece which has been floating about my head for a couple weeks. And it was needing to come out.**

**A fair warning, my dear readers, that this fict WILL have spoilers from the second half of _A Storm of Swords_ and quite probably _A Feast for Crows _and _A __Dance with Dragons_. It won't be for a bit, but I do want to warn you of this! **

**Otherwise, this is rated M for further sexual encounters and material. So just, yeah, be mature about it. And, as always, reviews are welcomed, criticism appreciated, and flames- well, please don't leave them at my doorstep.**

**Without further ado,**

**Lydia**

* * *

The sun was bright as it filtered through the billowing silk curtains. It kissed her pale skin as she sat in the window looking over the waters before her. _Soon, soon I will be free_.

Sansa closed her eyes as she pressed her head back on the wood frame of the window. But what would freedom bring her? Certainly not her mother or her brother, both of whom were slaughtered at the Frey's wedding. It would not bring her back Rickon or Bran. It would not rise Ayra up. It would not bring Jon back from the wall. And it would never bring her father back.

She felt the tears pressing against her eyes, causing them to burn and clumping in her lashes. She was trying to take deep breaths, trying to focus on the sea. _Lord Baelish will come._ She tried over and over again to convince herself that Petyr Baelish would come to her rescue; he would come as her knight in shining armor. Even though every man had failed her before. _But I must believe that he will come through._

_ And then what?_ Her thoughts raged against each other. _He will take you to Winterfell where the walls are torn down and your people slaughtered?_

"Sansa," A gentle voice brought her from her thoughts. It came from across the room. Sansa sniffed back her tears and brought her sleeves to her eyes, quickly wiping away her tears. _My tears for my traitor brother and mother. _She turned with a tight smile on her pink lips. It was not a handmaid's voice or some servant girl's call that had stirred her from her trance. It was Margaery's bright brown eyes which greeted her, a short smile was on the girl's lips. "Sansa, there is no need to hide your tears."

"Yes, your grace," Sansa said. She curtsied where she stood, her spine straight, her eyes downcast.

"Oh, Sansa, you must not treat me in such a way while we are in private." Margaery strode forward, her hands reaching out and enveloping Sansa's hands. Sansa looked up at the soon to be queen with a straight face. "I know that you are grieving,"

Sansa tried to keep her mouth straight. She bit the inside of her cheek as she tried to keep the rush of tears at bay. She found it harder to breath and her throat was raw. But it was Margaery's kindness which felled the wall.

"It is okay, Sansa, for you to cry."

Sansa's body disobeyed her mind as she began to weep. She felt her legs giving way and she stumbled back against the window. Margaery's strong arms came around her shoulders. The older girl slid under Sansa, cradling her in her lap. Margaery wrapped her arms around Sansa, her hand stroking the woman's head. "Shh, shh," Margaery hushed her. "You let it all out. It will be okay."

"How can you say that?" Sansa's voice was shaking with sorrow as she sat upright. "How can you say that it will be alright? I am in the midst of the lion's den with no house to return to and no family to come to my rescue." She shook her head, her tears giving way to a rage she had buried deep inside of her chest. "No, I do have a family. I'm bound to these lions, married to the most despised man of all and he tries so hard to make things right but...but he cannot."

"Sansa," Margaery spoke sternly to her.

"I am sorry, my grace," Sansa pulled herself away from Margaery's grip. "I weep and yet you are to marry the true monster."

"Sansa," Margaery spoke more loudly this time. "I did not come here to receive the pity you have already granted me. I came here because I want to aid and encourage you planning what it is you are going to do. You are right; you are the only Stark left."

"I'm not even a Stark," Sansa replied bitterly. "I'm a...a...a _Lannister_."

"Sansa, remember what I told you about our situations?" Margaery ignored Sansa's outburst, wrapping her arms around the young lady's shoulders.

"You said...you said I was to make the best of it," Sansa murmured. "But Margaery, I just do not know how, anymore. They killed my mother and brother, they _slaughtered _them like...like _animals_."

"And it is done and you are the last Stark, the only heir to Winterfell."

"Which means nothing because there is no Winterfell left." Sansa doubled over, cradling her face in her hands.

"Winterfell is not just bricks and woods and plaster, Sansa. Winterfell is a tradition, it is the home of the Starks, the great banner of the North. Must I repeat myself."

"But what am _I _supposed to do?" Sansa shook her head.

"You are a married woman now," Margaery said. Sansa turned her head to look up at her friend. Margaery's dark eyebrow was raised as she looked upon Sansa.

"No, no I can't. I can't bring myself to do it." Sansa shook her head.

"Sansa, you have said even now that Lord Tyrion has done you no wrong. And if he wants to please you- make him promise you Winterfell."

"I cannot make a demand of that." Sansa sat upright, turning to face Margaery. She rest her hands in her lap.

"You cannot? Do you not think that Lord Tyrion would not want his hand in the North?"

"But I don't want him to be Lord of the North." Sansa shook her head violently.

"Sansa, you are so...sweet." Margaery reached out and cradled the girl's cheek with her long thin fingers. "You are so sweet, but silly."

"I do not understand..."

"You are not thinking properly in your situation. If you have a child, then he will be the heir of Winterfell. Your claim will hold, since a man will sit upon the throne and not a woman. We are mistaken for the weaker sex."

"But Lord Tyrion-"

"Will be held captive by your...your womanly charms." Margaery's smile slipped across her lips. "And you will teach your son properly. You can make him a real Stark. Teach him the honor of his grandfather." Margaery ran her fingers down Sansa's neck, tangling her fingers in the girl's auburn hair. "You are fourteen, Sansa, and you are surrounded by lions. I have learned to bloom, you can learn to fight. And from what I recall, wolves need a pack."

"But what you are suggesting-" Sansa began.

"Sansa, you cannot remain in your state forever," Margaery scolded the girl gently. "It is better to...to ensure that you are not open to prey."

"Is it because Joffrey wants to rape me?" Sansa's eyes filled with tears. "I cannot be safe here, anywhere."

"You could be safe, if you used your husband. He is as suspicious of these lions as you are. You need only open eyes to see." She pulled Sansa's head against her chest. "Sansa, you cannot hope to remain as sweet as you are, if you want to survive. You know this, foolish girl, why are you so reluctant to yield now?"

"Because I am not in a position where I am forced," Sansa closed her eyes as she listened to Margaery's heartbeat. She felt shame washing over her body like a downpour, her eyes filling with tears once again. "My...my lord has spared me from...from more humiliation than is necessary."

"Than do you not think it is time to repay a favor, especially one that will benefit you both?" Margaery said. Sansa still shook her head.

"Now is not the time to be stubborn, Sansa. You need to yield."

"I am not as brave as you are, Margaery." Sansa shouted. Margaery reached across and placed her hand across Sansa's mouth.

"Hush, child. Before the rest of the castle hears you." Margaery let go of her mouth and grabbed hold of Sansa's hands instead. "You are a Stark, Sansa, you are braver than you think. And you are a smart girl. You will realize this is the best decision, really. It will ensure your protection, it will ensure your inheritance. Sansa, _you may find freedom yet_. Do not squander that, I would kill for that freedom." Margaery's eyes narrowed as she sat upright, a small shake in her shoulders. "Perhaps I _will_ kill for that."

Sansa bowed her head again. "I...I will think about what you have said."

"Good," Margaery stood and leaned over to kiss her forehead gently. "You will find the strength. I will pray to the seven for you."

Sansa felt her heart groan as she made the promise. And then a further thought entered her mind. _ But what if Lord Baelish does come to my rescue. What if he is able to bring me to some safe haven? He will not take me with a Lannister baby in my belly. But if he does not stay to his word, like some have suggested- _"Do I have to tell?" Sansa asked. "Can I keep it in private?"

Margaery's eyebrows crossed in confusion, but she nodded her head. "If your lord agrees to remain discreet- though, I do not know why you would be worried about-"

"I have my reasons, as you have yours." Sansa interrupted. Margaery's eyebrows raised and she nodded her head.

"Alright, my Northern wolf. You know how to play this game and, now that I have stirred you to return to it, I will let you play your pieces the way you see fit." She stood and kissed Sansa on the cheek. "You would not have survived so long if you did not." She turned and began to make her way across the room, her blue skirts brushing along the stone floor, her heels clicking in the empty space.

Though, the room was not silent for long. The door creaked open and gave way to Tyrion, who waddled indignantly through the doorway. He started when he saw Margaery posed near the door, bowing at his waist. "Your grace,"

"Your lord," Margaery looked down upon him with a smile. She turned one last time before leaving the room to look back at Sansa. "My sweet girl, do not leave me out of your secrets. I shall be in dire want to know of your decision. Though, I know you will choose wisely."

"Of course, your grace." Sansa stood and curtsied.

"I shall leave you both to your supper," She exited the room with grace, the door shutting as quietly as a wood door could muster in her wake.

Tyrion looked back at the door and then to Sansa. His blonde eyebrows furrowed as his scarred face contorted into a frown. "I did not know that Lady Margaery was going to be paying you a visit, else I would have spent more time in my books."

"It was a...surprise." Sansa's voice was still thick with tears, but she swallowed them back this time around.

"A pleasant one, I could imagine. I do not doubt that not even my nephew's arrogance could damage her spirit." Tyrion said. He was trying to make small talk, trying to get her to speak to him. And she wanted nothing more than for him to leave her alone in that giant bed of his and let her weep for nights to come.

"Indeed," Sansa replied sharply. Tyrion approached closer and Sansa sat further upright, her eyes returning once more to her lap.

"Are you alright, my lady?" Tyrion paused when he saw her stiffen. Sansa looked him in the eyes, wishing hers to stop their rivers. She steeled herself, her crumpled down fortresses once again returning to full height.

"I am, my lord."

"Tyrion. My name is Tyrion. And it would bring me peace if you would call me that," He stopped in his talk and looked up at her with soft blue eyes. "Though, I am sure you wish no peace upon me after the slaughter that my father has done upon your family."

"They were traitors," Sansa replied coldly. She did not dare look into his eyes for fear that any contact would make her break. Even if it involved a Lannister.

"Sansa," Tyrion approached her further and took her hand in his. He was gentle. Always so gentle with her. She dared looking into his eyes. "You do not have to pretend around me. Your father was a great man, your mother a woman of honor. Your brother was only doing what he thought was right-"

"But they deserved their end," She replied. Rehearsed, over and over again, for the day when Cersei would come to her with her empty apologies and poor attempts as consoling, _I f _Cersei came around. She seemed a lot less amused with her little dove since Sansa was replaced by a red rose.

She could feel Tyrion's temper begin to rise and she knew it was not long before he would turn to the cup of wine that sat for him on the table. "I forbid you from ever saying those words."

"Yes, my l-Tyrion." She answered, but did acknowledge his name in this instant. Best she saved his anger for another day. Tyrion grumbled and shook his head, making his way over as foreseen to his cup of wine.

"When do the serving girls come about with dinner? I am absolutely famished." He took a sip of his cup.

"I am sure it will not be long," Sansa did not stir from her seat. Though, the question which Margaery had placed in her head was burning through her mind. _Would I be able to close my eyes and spread my legs for...for him? Just enough for him to put an heir in me? _Sansa shuddered.

"Sansa, please, tell me what is troubling you. I was in earnest when I made my promise that no harm would come to you."

Sansa looked up from her hands for a moment. She made eye contact with him and took a deep breath. "I was just wondering-"

She was interrupted by the sound of the door opening and several serving girls entered the room with trays of food. Sansa stood as they entered, smoothing out her golden skirts below her. Tyrion sat paused in his chair still listening to Sansa, but she did not finish her sentence. It would have to wait until the two were alone once again. A situation Sansa never dreamed of actually wanting.


	2. Weaving

**A/N: So sorry for the delay! I meant to get this up sooner, but being an English major in her senior year- well, unfortunately essays come before editing and free writing :( But I will try to be more organized so this doesn't happen again! With love, Lydia**

* * *

Shae entered the room behind the whirl of servants bearing food with a new gown in arms. Sansa held her breath; it was another dress for her to try on for the wedding. Cersei kept sending more and more as if to remind Sansa that it was not she who was marrying Joffery, she no longer would be the future queen.

"M'lady, after you dine I have been ordered to have you try this dress," Shae laid the dress over the bed, not looking once at Tyrion as she passed, though she found a way to pass by closer to him. Sansa walked over to the table slowly, listening but not responding to Shae's words."M'lady-"

"Yes, I heard you." Sansa replied as she sank into the chair across from Tyrion. Shae came to place her hands on Sansa's shoulders, gently squeezing them as she leaned close to Sansa's face.

"Yes, m'lady." She murmured.

"If you do not mind allowing Sansa and I to sup alone tonight," Tyrion interjected. Sansa felt her handmaiden stand straight behind her, placing a hand on the back of her chair.

"Yes, please," Sansa turned to look at Shae. Shae's dark eyes studied her face, concern crossing her features. Sansa nodded her head. Shae let out a small sigh and turned, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

"That one certainly has her eye on you," Tyrion look across at Sansa from under his deep brow.

"She is a good handmaiden," Sansa replied, laying her hands on the table.

Before the two sat a dinner of roasted chicken among candied vegetables. The smell was one that should have Sansa's mouth watering at the sight, but she found the food less and less appetizing the longer she stayed within the walls of King's Landing. She forced herself to nibble pieces here and there so as not to cause Tyrion to become upset with her for wasting away even further, but she felt no hunger. Not any longer.

Tyrion, however, was reaching across the table and bearing testament to the hunger he expressed earlier in the evening. Sansa could not watch him eat, not when she was on the threshold of pondering Margaery's advice. Sansa was sure of one thing, she needed to make sure that such promises which Margaery made would come to pass.

"What was it you were going to ask me, Sansa?" Tyrion paused in his noisy chewing and took a draught of wine. Sansa took the moment to glance up, swallowing to wet her throat. Her stomach was heavy as she looked into his light eyes which watched her with patience. "Sansa?"

"If..if..I..I mean," Sansa had lost all control of her words. She was letting them master her and she felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment at the struggle. Her eyes dropped to her lap once again. She took a breath and tried again. "If I...I mean, we..." Those words again. "If we had an...heir, "It was so less convicting to avoid 'child', less binding. "Would he be Lord of Winterfell?"

She kept her eyes downward; she could not bear to look him in the eyes at this moment, not with her cheeks flushing so red and her head spinning. Tyrion remained silent, causing her heart to drop into her throat.

"What are you asking, Sansa?"

"Precisely what I said, my lord." She looked up at him now, trying to control her breaths.

"Well, I suppose so. Since he-if you had a male-would be proper heir to Winterfell, what with your brother and mother-" He paused, shaking his head. "Yes, as I can see it right now he would be. Why do you ask? Are you fucking one of the squires? You have not discovered Podrick's talents have you?" Tyrion had a note of jest in his voice, but it only humiliated Sansa further. He let out a small cough. "I beg your apology, my lady. That jest was made in poor taste, I am just taken by surprise by the question."

"I was just wondering...wondering what would happen to Winterfell now." She said. Tyrion took another swig of wine and swallowed wetly. Sansa pressed her lips together regretting the inquiry all together.

"It is a very valid pondering, Sansa." Tyrion assured her. "You needn't be ashamed to ask."

Sansa nodded her head again, remaining silent still. His kindness was something that kept her from jumping from the window, ending the line of the Starks. Ending it all together.

"Did Margaery say something to you?" He asked before downing more wine. He would be drunk soon enough.

"She reminded me that Winterfell was no more, that King's Landing is my home now." She swallowed the lie, trying to convince herself that it was the truth. Tyrion paused and looked at her with furrowed brows.

"So you naturally wondered where the charred remains would go?" Tyrion shook his head. "I am rather distasteful this evening, Sansa, forgive me. My sister has put me into another bad mood and-"

"Do not get drunk." The sentence surprised even Sansa as it flew from her lips. She was tired of seeing him slowly become overpowered by the wine, reduced to a muttering wreck by the end of the night. Tyrion sat straight from his reclining position to look at her.

"Does my dutiful wife command something of me? It is a strange day indeed." He mused, placing his cup on the table.

"I am sorry, my lord, I am unsure of where such demands came from." She hung her head. Tyrion's laughter startled her.

"I take no offense to my lady's suggestion," Tyrion pushed his cup further away. "The next thing I know you will be begging me to come into that bed over there, to put that heir you are pondering about in your belly."

Sansa's eyes widened, she kept her head down to mask her surprise. The sound of the chair scraping against the floor filled the room and she heard his footsteps coming closer. She shied away from his touch when he first reached out, but relaxed her arm letting him take her hands in his.

"Sansa, I hold to my word. I will not command that of you, not until you want me to." She turned her head to look at him. His face was level with hers for a change and she could see honesty in his blue eyes. She forced a small smile at him. He was at least kind to her. _Keep your focus on that, Sansa. Remember that he has been kind, like Margaery said. It will make it so much more bearable. _

Tyrion reached out hesitantly, pausing for a moment, before extending his arm to brush her hair away from her face, cradling her cheek in his rough hand. Sansa's body sat rigidly in the chair, still not able to relax under his fingertips. Tyrion's thumb ran across the skin of her cheek, the touch causing her to shudder involuntarily. He let go of her.

"Sansa, I am so sorry," he offered her. "But a million apologies will never bring your family up from the dead."

He let go of her hand and made his way to the door. "I am going to the library. Please, my wife, do not wait up for me." He said with a laugh.

Sansa let her breath go as she crumpled on the table before her_. _How was she going to do this? How was she going to be able to lie down and take it? What if it did not work?

Sansa banished the thoughts from her mind as she stood and pushed her chair into the table, returning once more to her spot in the frame of the window. The one that looked over the setting sun on the darkening sea.

* * *

Shae returned as she said later that night. She was quiet and she did not look Sansa in the eye, did not offer her normally smile and her comforting squeeze on the arm. The girl knew that her handmaid was upset with her for sending her away at dinner. Sansa was not yet sure she could trust anyone with her intentions, too many whispers flooded the castle and she knew better than to place her confidences with others. She would have to share her coming secret with one person, she supposed, since it took two to form an heir.

"I am sorry, Shae," She spoke up.

"Why do you apologize to me? I am your handmaid, you send me where you need to send me." Shae pulled the dress tightly against her belly, confining Sansa's rib cage in a metal bodice. She let out a gasp. "You are becoming skinny, m'lady."

Sansa looked down and agreed that her hips were a little less filled out. She should have eaten the supper that sat cold on the table. A waste which could have fed a poor man's family, or so Margaery would scold her.

"I have not had much appetite for food," Sansa replied.

"Than you have not much appetite for curves," Shae bit back. "Not that you get much use from them." Shae sucked in a quick breath. "I apologize again, m'lady, I spoke out wrongly."

"No, you are correct." Sansa hung her head, crossing her hands together. The long red sleeves of the dress laced with golden curve designs touched the ground. It was going to be nothing but a hindrance that day. Something for both her and Tyrion to get tangled up in. Something to cause for more humiliation for the both of them. "Does it hurt?"

"What do you mean?" Shae asked as she untied the girl's dress. She pulled the fabric from her body, leaving Sansa in her shift as she went to fetch the girl's bed clothes.

"When you...when you are with someone for the first time?"She sank onto the bed. Shae paused as she folded the dress over the back of Sansa's vanity chair. "I mean, you...you have done it before?"

Shae smiled mischievously, "I still do not know what you are asking for?"

"If you have...well..."Sansa flushed a brilliant red. "well..._fucked_ someone before?"

Shae let out a whimsical laugh as she came back to Sansa's side to clothe her. "Such a sweet girl with such a foul mouth."

"Well, you are the one who _made_ me say it." Sansa tried to defend herself.

"Such a thing should not make you so red in the face," Shae pulled Sansa's bed clothes over Sansa's head.

Sansa remained quiet. The only thing she could think of when she thought of such an act was the way those men held her ankles down, how she thrust against their grips as they took out their anger on her. Their anger toward Joffrey, not toward her. That was what she reminded herself every time she woke up from the nightmare of the man driving a knife into her throat.

"It hurts," Shae said. Sansa looked into the woman's dark eyes. "It hurts, I will not deceive you, m'lady. But then it gets better. You just have to give it...some time. If you are lucky enough to yield to one who knows what he is doing."

"Margaery," Sansa began, trying to speak without blushing. "Margaery told me that...that we are hard to please."

"The queen sounds like she has tried out some who knew what they were doing, and others who did not."

"Oh no! The queen is a maiden. She did not lie with Renly-" Sansa was shocked by the way Shae spoke of the woman.

"Sansa, does it matter?" Shae asked. Sanson could not reply. "Why are you asking anyways, my little dear. What are you planning ?"

"Nothing," Sansa shook her head. Shae escorted Sansa to the chair before her vanity and reached for the girl's brush, then began to work through the girl's reddish hair. Sansa was forced to see her reflection in the looking glass; her sunken face, her sad blue eyes, her permanent frown. She used to be beautiful once, not that it mattered much. Not when she was bound to her enemies by marriage and kept from the arms of a handsome and valiant knight. Sansa found herself holding back tears once again, but this time they were of self pity.

"Sweet girl, it is time for you to sleep, rest your little head on your pillow." Shae braided Sansa's hair down her back tightly. Sansa stood and found her way to the room's bed. She lay on the right side, stiffly laying back on the mattress. Shae blew out the candles as she left the room leaving Sansa in complete darkness.


	3. Actions

**A/N: First off, thank you so much for the encouragement you readers have given me in regards to this story. It means a lot! **

**Secondly- this chapter is one of those "M" chapters. I tried to handle this as tactfully as possible, and while it seems early in the story, I beg you trust me in why I have had this encounter come as soon as the third chapter. **

**Thank you once again for reading, and especially for reviewing. And sorry this chapter is a bit long! There was no natural stopping point in the midst of it!- Lydia**

* * *

"Have you thought about my suggestion?" Margaery asked Sansa as the two walked through the garden arm in arm. Margaery had insisted that Sansa should go out and walk among the flowers and the fresh air to lift her burdened spirits. Sansa had agreed with the woman, more because Margaery was going to be the queen and less because she actually wanted to.

"I have," Sansa replied, blinking against the harsh sun. She had met with Ser Dontos that morning, speaking of the details of her escape. Lord Baelish had promised that she would be travelling with him to the Vale, escaping in the crowds during one of the upcoming royal engagements. Sansa was not sure how this was going to be possible with so many watchful eyes.

"And what have you decided?" Margaery stopped and turned to look into Sansa's eyes, her brown ones dancing with curiosity.

"I have decided that- that if would seem a good decision." Sansa began.

"Than why do I sense hesitation in your choice?"

"I wish there was another way to come about my...my freedom." Sansa said. Margaery sighed.

"We and our gods forsaken places, Sansa. If only we had been born with a cock between our legs, we may have more say in the matter."

"Cersei once told me that what we have between ours is still very powerful." Sansa confessed.

"She is certainly not wrong, but it is not as powerful a tool as some might wish it were." Margaery took Sansa's hands in her own.

"How am I supposed to ask? Should I be honest?" Sansa looked into the soon to be queen's eyes once more.

"Only you can answer those questions, Sansa, I cannot tell you everything to do. I am not Joffrey after all." She smiled wickedly. Sansa took a deep breath.

"But you might not want to wait too long." Margaery leaned forward and whispered. The young wolf nodded her head in understanding.

_It will have to begin...tonight_. She was not prepared for this. She had not yet mustered up the strength to have a decent conversation with her legal husband, much less even think of lying in that bed with her legs spread and his...manhood...deep in her. _Though, all marriages start this way, is that not what mother had said?_

Thinking of her mother brought a fresh wave of sadness over her body. _Furthermore, I do not want to fall in love. I want to have my home back._

"I wish I could know what you are thinking, sweet girl. There must be plots a many tucked under that beautiful hair of yours." She reached out and touched Sansa's cheek gently. Sansa closed her eyes.

"I am just...preparing myself." She assured the woman. Margaery smiled.

"I must be off, my sweet lady. I have to amuse Joffrey this afternoon with whatever story fits his fancy."

"You are a much better liar than I have ever been." Sansa confessed to her.

"Do not fret, Sansa. Innocence is just as beautiful as flattery, if even more so." Margaery turned to make her way out of the gardens.

"Margaery," Sansa called after her for a moment. Margaery turned to look at Sansa, paused as she waited for her to continue. "Have you ever...known a man?"

"Sansa, there are some matters which a queen should be discreet about." Margaery smiled at Sansa with a wink. Sansa shook her head.

She was about to know what Margaery knew soon enough.

* * *

She did not know what to do, to ask for it, so she figured the best she could do was send Shae away for the evening and sit naked in her bed. It was one way to get his attention, if not the loudest. She grew quite cold in the wait, her breasts ached in the chill, so she pulled a blanket around her shoulders as she continued her vigil for the door to open. It seemed like tonight was bound to be another camp out in the library. This was a fool's errand. _Perhaps the gods are telling me that this is a bad idea._ She lay across the bed, placing her head on her arms as she waited.

She was not tired, despite the fitful sleep she had received since she was married. She was always on the wait for someone to bring her demise. There was Joffrey and Cersei and Tywin. Despite his kindness, she was even wary of Tyrion.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Tyrion entered, much to her mixed hope and despair, but he did not look to the bed. _Of course he did not. We are not friends, we are civil. A civil union._

He made his way to the table and left a book on its wood. The room was dimly lit with candles, so he had not noticed her move to sit upright, the blanket falling off of her shoulders. Her auburn hair was cascading down her chest. She was trying to play the seduction game, albeit badly, but in the end she wanted him to just get it over with.

He turned and she then realized that he saw her, finally. He paused for a moment and she could see in the candlelight that he was examining her breasts, the soft skin of her tummy. She did her best to make eye contact with him. She concentrated on the scar that began at the top of his right eyebrow. Tyrion then turned quickly, grabbing the book in his hand.

"I am sorry, my lady," he muttered. Sansa had to act.

"No, stay." She called out. Tyrion stopped at the door, turning to look at her. He kept his eyes on her face, not looking down at the slight curve that was left of her body. Sansa had to speak soon or she would lose her chance. "I am willing to yield."

"So soon?" Tyrion's eyebrows rose and his glance went downwards once again.

"I...I..I am a terrible liar," Sansa hung her head.

"Wrap yourself in a blanket and we can perhaps talk about what has changed your mind? Have you lost your maidenhood and are in need of a cover? I do not care, Sansa, what you have done with other men. What you would _want _to do with other men..."

"No!" Sansa cried out. "I am covering for nothing." She stood and Tyrion looked away as the sheet fell from her body.

"I would prefer you put some clothes on before we talk." Tyrion was growing noticibly uncomfortable in the situation. "You do not want to make a hasty decision, little wolf-"

"I want an heir!" Sansa cried out. Tyrion looked up at her with his mouth agape.

"My lady, please, wrap yourself in the sheets and we can talk-" Tyrion tried again.

"I have talked and I have thought. And I need to have Winterfell returned to its rightful house."

"You seem to forget, my lady, that the...heir...would be half Lannister?"

"I see no better option. There are no Direwolves left." Sansa refused to wrap herself in the sheets. "I am not asking for much. I am asking for you to do what you are known for."

"While that is a low blow which is not appreciated," Tyrion returned to the table to place distance between her extremely nude body and his reddening face. "I cannot promise that Winterfell will be yours. It legally is right now, and would foreseeably be secured by your male son, but as you know, my family is good at changing hands-"

"I do not know what else I can do, but run." Sansa bit her lip. She could not give away her second plan. He could not know, he would certainly tell and Lord Baelish would not be able to free her from King's Landing, if he did carry through on his promises. Promises were spider webs around here; finely woven but easily broken.

"Sansa, you are asking me to-" Tyrion's hands dropped and he shook his head at her.

"Do you not want me?" Sansa asked. It was a stupid question, since she did not want him.

"No, Sansa, no-" He came closer to her, trying to keep his eyes above her bare body. "I cannot lie when I thought about...well, that does not matter now. But you know that when you lie with me, then we will be consummated."

"I want to keep this private." Sansa said.

"You are a girl with so many strange requests. 'Fuck me, but do not tell'. Is this part of the Northern tradition?"

"Do you want your Lord Father to know that you have obeyed his word?" Sansa was learning quickly which cards to play. And Tyrion rolling over in obedience to his family was not something he wanted to do.

Tyrion let out a chuckle. "The lady is clever, and well thought out." He still refused to look below her chin, but she could tell he was itching for the sex between her legs.

Sansa made her way down from the bed to stand before him. She sank to her knees, the floor cold and rough on her tender skin. She needed his help and she could not deny her desperation\n right now. "My lord, please, my family is crumbling below me and I am alone. I see no other way to restore Winterfell to the right family; I could not bear the thought of my home eventually falling into the hands of Cersei or your father. "

Tyrion's eyes dropped to the ground, he was paused in thought. Sansa sunk back on her heels with a sigh.

"I cannot deny a beautiful woman," Tyrion groaned. "You may blow the candle out. I did not lie when I said I can perform as well as any knight you had hopes to wed."

Sansa looked up at him with a look of relief. "What do we, what do I do?"

"If you wish to hide this, we had better lay you on a blanket. Feed it to the fire later." Tyrion let out a dry laugh and shook his head. "Blow the candles out and lay on your bed. The rest will take little effort for you."

Sansa obeyed. Tyrion went to undressing himself as the room went slowly dark. The bundle in Sansa's belly only grew tighter as the room grew even more quiet. She turned to look at him, her first glimpse of a man indecent. Even in the dim light, the sight and experience was not as thrilling as she had imagined in her youthful days. She took a deep breath and blew out the last candle. The fire was glowing with embers in the corner of the room, casting an eerie light. _How appropriate._ Sansa mused as she lay down a thick red covering over the bed. _Disheartening and blood colored.. _

She did as she was told, returning to the bed and laying on her back. She closed her eyes as she wished the minutes away. _Let this be over. Please._ She prayed to the gods.

And he was there. She could feel his weight in the bed, pushing the mattress down. Sansa's body went rigid as she spread her legs and sucked in her breath. She kept her eyes closed.

She let out a gasp as she felt him between her legs. She gripped the blanket beneath her, trying to keep from calling out. His cock was not as small as he had given the impression at Joffrey's wedding. She could most definitely feel it pushing apart her insides, making its way up into her pelvis. She felt tears coming to her eyes as he pushed deeply into her. She felt as if she was being pulled apart and filled all at once. _If only...oh there are no wishes for a stupid girl like you!_

He began pulling out, slowly. It was a much more comforting feeling between her legs. How long could she hold out without letting go of her lip to cry out in pain and dismay? She gripped the blanket tighter beneath her fists as he rushed into her again. It was a quick few hard thrusts, each growing a little less painful, before he pulled away from her altogether. It was over. Not only had she extinguished another dream in the unkind Lannister land, but had finally consummated a marriage that she could have been rid of as soon as...Sansa closed her eyes against the tears that were threatening to tear her body apart as she thought of Winterfell. She pushed the thought from her mind as she sat up. Tyrion sat before her, looking at her.

"I am sorry, Sansa." He muttered.

"What? What has happened?" She sat upwards in fright. "Did something happen incorrectly?"

"I cannot do this," Tyrion looked up at her. "I mean, I am going to do what I promised. But you are a board in front of me- I fuck a wall and not a woman."

Sansa's cheeks turned pink. "Then what has happened."

"You had better get up and wash all remains away. I shall take care of the blanket."

Sansa obeyed again, rising and making her way over to the basin which she had asked Shae to fill for the evening. She took hold of the cloth that had been left to her and began to clean away the blood that had been spilled and then dumped the water over the balcony. She turned with the rag in her hands to watch Tyrion throw the crimson blanket into the fire. She came over to his side, to throw the bloodstained cloth in besides the blanket.

"There, we have done our duty," Sansa replied stiffly.

"I am afraid I did not hold up on my bargain." Tyrion stood in front of her, naked and shriveled. She tried to look away.

"What has happened? You have been false to me?" Sansa felt the tears catch in her throat.

"Sansa, you are being taught a horrible lesson," Tyrion looked up at her. "And I do not want to be another person who has come along to exploit you without giving you something in return. I could not let you endure pain while I strove for ecstasy. Something was not right about it."

"Did you not-" She pieced together what had happened. "How am I supposed to become pregnant if you do not finish?"

"Sansa, please, trust me in this. I want to give you some sort of happiness in your gilded cage. Come with me, lie on the bed."

"What are you going to do with me?" Sansa looked down at him cautiously.

"Fucking is something that can be either a pleasant time or torture. I want to at least show you that you have nothing to fear in my hands. And I cannot do that when you are rigid and quiet, you are barely even wet enough to-" He stopped as she looked away, ashamed of the details. "You are not to be blamed, I would feel the same."

Sansa looked back at him. "Why are you so kind to me?"

"Because you have been wronged since the day you came here. By Joffrey and by my father." Tyrion responded. Sansa smiled at him sadly. "Now can you return so I can at least give you a little...comfort. You are as brave as the Lions of Lannister."

"I am a Wolf," She corrected him absentmindedly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, you are." Tyrion looked up at her, a smile pushing at the corner of his mouth. Sansa looked down at him warily, but obeyed. She returned to the bed. She watched Tyrion as he paused and let out a breath, but he turned and approached her.

"Lay back, Sansa," Tyrion said. Sansa did as she was told. "Ever the obedient little dove." He chuckled. "Just when I thought I was seeing a wolf return."

Sansa glared up at him. "I-"

"You are doing what you must to survive." Tyrion interrupted her. She looked at him with surprise. "Sansa Stark you have done nothing but survive the brutal atrocities served to you at King's Landing."

"I have not lived since I have come to this castle." Sansa's voice was filled with tears. Tyrion sighed.

"Then let me help you," he made his way into the bed next to her. His skin was glowing in the fire light, his stern jaw cast shadows over his bare chest. She turned her head to look at him, studied the scar that made its way from his eyebrow and across his cheek. Her heart was pounding with what he was going to do.

He leaned forward and kissed her. She tensed, her mouth remaining tightlipped as he pressed harder. He pulled away fiercely with a groan.

"Sansa, close your eyes and pretend I am your golden knight. I know fewer tricks than I like when my cock is not doing the job," he said. "But you have too many horrible memories of a man's touch."

Sansa took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Tyrion kissed her again. This time he bit her lip. _The beautiful knight has carried me away. _She tried to think. But it was too much like Tyrion. _Just do what he says. But...try to pretend he is your knight_. She commanded herself. She forced herself to kiss him back. He pressed harder with his lips, grabbing hold of her bottom lip between her teeth and pulling it away again. Something was changing in Sansa's body as he kissed her more fiercely, her mind was slowly forgetting who was doing the touching and focused more on the sensation as she kept her eyes shut tightly Sansa felt a flood of serenity sweep over her. She kissed him back, full mouthed this time. His tongue made his way into her mouth.

Her body was betraying her mind. This was Tyrion Lannister she was kissing, but it felt wonderful. She kissed him with her own open mouth; his mouth tasted like wine. It was intoxicating and bitterly sweet. She groaned slightly, as she felt his hand come and envelope her breast. He gave it a squeeze. Gentle at first, then roughly. Sansa sighed at the touch. His thumb ran over one of her nipples which stood at attention in the chill air of the room. The digit was rougher than she expected for a man who did little labor with his hands. The grittiness felt right on the delicate bud of her breast. Better than it should have. She shivered slightly as his hand kneaded her breast again.

His mouth left hers, trailing wet kisses down her neck. She let out a small gasp as her body flooded with energy. His mouth was unnervingly welcome on the smooth skin as he kissed the joining of her shoulder and her neck. The neck he had called long he scaled with ease. His kisses were becoming looser as he kissed her shoulder; she jumped as she felt his teeth gently tease the skin. Her body was lighting up with explosions and she could feel an uncontrollable wetness increase between her legs. At first she grew scared that she had started her monthly blood spell, but she had just recovered from the time. She tried to sit up to be sure that she was not bleeding all over the bedspread. Tyrion pushed her back down against the pillows as his mouth continued down over her chest and came to her breasts. His strength surprised her as she did not expect that such a little man would be able to push her back.

Her thoughts were erased as his mouth placed down on her breast and sucked. She let out a breathy gasp. Opening her eyes she could see that he was further down her body, away from the pillows. He looked up at her, she could see him faintly in the dim lighting of the awakened fire. She was certain if his face was lit up he would have a glimmer in his eye.

"I see my dear lady enjoys when her tits get attention." He said. He then returned his mouth to her round breast. Sansa lay back and closed her eyes as her mind grew numb to the sensations.

She let out another small gasp and then a whimper as he sucked sharply on her breast. To her dismay, he pulled away and began to trail kisses down her stomach. She could feel his hand caress one of her thighs, tickling the inside of her leg as he gently parted them once again.

_He's going to try again. Oh, Mother, give me mercy this time. Make it less painful_. She prayed, her eyebrows creasing as she pressed her eyes closed. She braced herself for him to enter her again.

But he did not; his hand instead reached between her thighs, sneaking where her thighs joined. "Relax," he murmured. Sansa tried.

It was hard to rest her muscles until suddenly his hand began to explore her crevice. His fingers swept past her entrance and up toward the top of her sex. He moved his thumb and she jumped as her body screamed in pleasure. Her mouth opened once more in a whimper. _Where ever his hand has ventured feels unspeakable- wonderful. How could a woman's body be so capable of...delight? I am...enjoying his touch_. She began to realize.

He leaned forward to kiss the curve of her hip as he moved his hand between her legs. Sansa felt a building tension in her belly. It was frightening as it became more and more intense. His hand pulled away for a moment and Sansa's body screamed for more. _You are a traitor, my body_. She thought as she brought her hands over her face. His mouth was still kissing her hips, trailing upwards back toward her breasts. His hand came back to that sensitive area he had been awakening and Sansa kept her body from writhing at the sensation.

Sansa was not sure if she was going to make it any further as the burning in her belly intensified. Suddenly, she felt her body convulsing, she brought her legs up as her mind was flooded with unspeakable pleasure. Tyrion kissed her breast again, moving back upwards toward her neck.

"Did you enjoy that, my lady?" He mused. Sansa's chest was heaving from the encounter. She looked down at him, his silhouette at her shoulder now. Sansa's throat was thick and she could not find it in herself to answer.

"I did make you a promise," Tyrion kissed the line of her jar lightly. Sansa lay her head back and her eyes fluttered closed again."And as it is said: a Lannister always pays his debts."

Sansa's body was still on fire as he kissed her on the cheek again. Sansa turned her head impulsively and kissed his mouth, open and wet. She could feel Tyrion smile in the kiss as his lips became smaller to grasp.

"Pay them," she managed to whisper.

Tyrion returned once again between her thighs, he bent over her belly, placing his hands at the curve of her hips. He then filled her once again. Sansa hissed as her body still did not accommodate his manhood, but it was much less painful this time around. He slid much more easily in and out, Sansa finding the motion more enjoyable in comparison to when he took her maidenhead. She lay her head back as he moved more quickly. Her body was singing as he moved against her, the sensation in her belly returning. She let out a small groan as his body pressed against the curve of her pelvis, the light skin atop her hairy mound. Tyrion's thrusts became deeper and came more quickly, until he was pressing against her and let out a cry himself. She could hear him gasping for breath as he collapsed on the bed next to her hip. She could feel a strange heaviness between her legs, a small trickle of wetness out of her.

"It is done." He spoke to her after a few moments of his ragged breathing.

Her body was still screaming to be touched. She did not wish to say anything to him, however, as he had done what needed to be. She sat up, shivering in the cool air as her warm body was kissed by a breeze.

Tyrion rolled off the bed and made his way across the room. She looked away, drawing her knees up to her bare chest to shield her bare body from his eyesight once again, though her body was electrified by his touch and greedily wanted more. She placed her chin on their caps and pulled her legs close. Her body was slowly resolving and she felt herself grow more sleepy. She lay back once again on the bed.

Tyrion startled her as he came to her side. He had pulled on the small clothes he had shed earlier and had her bed robe in his hands. "To keep out the chill."

He climbed onto the bed next to her, as she sat to take hold of the robe. He held it open for her to slip her arms into, pushing it around to the front of her body and tying it around her waist. His arms remained there for a moment, his cheek pressed to the bend in her back.

"My lord," she turned.

"Please, Sansa. We have lain together, I insist you call me Tyrion," He let go of her and she turned to look at him in the shadows.

"Tyrion," she tried once again. "I am very tired. If you do not mind, I would like to rest for the night."

"Of course," Tyrion moved away from her. "Oh course." He slipped off the bed and went to the chaise where he normally stayed until she had slipped off to a dreamless sleep for the evening.

"Thank you, Tyrion." She called after him. He paused and turned to look at her. He bowed his head and she saw a smile cross his lips.

"Good night, Sansa," he said. "Sleep well."

"I wish you the same." she echoed, laying back in the sheets. She heard Tyrion's bare feet pad across the floors before she slipped into sleep.


	4. Thawing

**A/N: I am going to try to keep the updates every Tuesday and Friday, so that way I can keep up with the writing while I am in school and you can expect an update. Thank you all for the kind words and encouragement. I am beyond thrilled that this story is receiving such positive reception! Thank you for reading and reviewing, my dears. With my love- Lydia**

* * *

Sansa had woken with an uncomfortable ache between her legs and nearly forgot what had occurred the night before. She had been awoken by Shae who had come to wake her for her breaking of fast with the soon to be queen, on Margaery's own request. Sansa had dressed quickly and was escorted with Shae to Margaery's dwelling quarters. The girl was up and alert, walking about her room as she pulled back her hair and tidied her dress. She welcomed Sansa into her quarters, escorting her to a chair at her table. and went about the other side to sit in front of her.

"How are you this morning, my lady?" Margaery asked with a smile across her round face. Sansa nodded her head, but it took a moment before she was able to have power of speech.

"I am well, Your Grace." She nodded her head, holding her hands in her lap.

"I trust you slept well," Margaery inquired with a twinkle in her eye.

"Yes, very well." Sansa affirmed.

"Ladies, please will you leave Sansa and I alone to break our fast? I am certain we can manage serving ourselves. I will call for you when I am in need of your assistance. Please, go to the kitchens and take a few moments of peace to break your owns fasts." She instructed kindly. Margaery smiled brightly at the women which surrounded the two girls.

Shae shot Sansa a look, causing Sansa to avert her eyes. She did not want Shae around for this destined to be humiliating conversation between her and Margaery; it was a private matter which needed less ears, even if she trusted those ears.

As soon as the handmaids were out of earshot, Margaery leaned forward as she slid a small portiong of bacon between her teeth. She took a moment to swallow before addressing Sansa, leaving the younger girl to her thoughts. "So, did you do it?"

Sansa did not answer. She watched as Margaery's brown eyes washed over her face, she smiled even when she chewed. _It is such a shame that such a ray of light will be extinguished by a bushel. _

"Sansa? Are you all right?" Margaery prodded once again.

"Yes, I am sorry, your grace." Sansa sat upright.

"Please, it is Margaery, sweet girl." The soon to be queen responded. She took a healthy bite of an apple which she had taken to cradling in her hand. "What events have happened?"

"We..." Sansa breathed. "We...we did come together." she managed to say.

"How was it?" Margaery leaned forward, her eyes wide as she inquired for more details. Sansa was reminded of when she and Jeyne used to whisper about the knights who came through Winterfell. The ones who were attractive, the ones who would make good husbands some day.

"It was well." Sansa replied.

"Did you- enjoy it?" She asked.

"It was pleasant," Sansa said, her voice soft and small.

"I am glad for you, my sweet girl." Margaery smiled and lay back in her chair, taking another bite of an apple. "So did he-"

"Yes," Sansa replied hastily. "Is there anything else we can speak about other than this topic?"

"Sansa Stark is scared of talking about a good fucking." Margaery teased.

"Margaery!" Sansa's mouth dropped open. "And I am Sansa Lannister, especially now."

"Did you do as you intended?"

"By hiding it, you mean?" Sansa said.

"Yes, sweet girl." Margaery's light laugh followed.

"I did." Sansa nodded her head. "He showed me mercy."

"What a kind husband you have," Margaery wrinkled her nose. "But I can sense that there are many other secrets you are hiding, Sansa."

Sansa's stomach twisted in knots as she heard this. Margaery's grin widened as she watched Sansa. "Don't worry, sweet girl, I will not ask what has come about."

"Thank you," Sansa sighed.

"I do wish to know someday," Margaery took another bite of her red apple.

"And I am hoping someday you will know what I am hiding." Sansa promised as she took a small piece of bread from the center of the table and ate it. She was suddenly finding her hunger coming back.

* * *

Tyrion awoke from the chaise. A crick in his neck had developed over the course of the night from the awkward position he had slept in. He sat up with a groan and rubbed the back of his neck. He had experienced the most wonderful dream the night before, though perhaps it was a bit too perverted for even he.

_I need to place Bronn back in his position as sellsword and less as confidant _. He jumped down from the chaise and tried to stretch the knot in his neck with little success. A glance at the bed assured him that Sansa was not here for the morning. Most likely she had made her way out to the sept to say her prayers to the Seven. _The woman has more faith than me, and yet she continues to go through such terrors_.

Podrick must have come in that morning and left some food on the table. Tyrion took a biscuit in hand and tore it with his teeth. He then poured himself his first glass of wine for the day, taking a drink to chase the food down. The door opening again startled him.

He turned and watched Sansa enter with Shae on her heels. His wife was already dressed for the day in a red and gold patterned dress which flattered her soft red hair. Such a beautiful young woman cursed with such an ill formed mate.

"Good morning, Sansa," He greeted her with a smile. Sansa looked over at him, but instead of her usually straight face she wore a faint smile on her lips. It was barely there, just small dimples near the corner of her lips, but her eyes were not their usual dead blue color. They were more alert, more aware. Shae, however, glared at him with her dark eyes as she stood by Sansa's side.

"I am in no more need for assistance this morning, Shae." Sansa spoke up. "Come and fetch me for the afternoon meal. I am planning to spend the morning practicing my needlework."

"Yes, m'lady." Shae said. She shot Tyrion a poisoned look before turning and leaving, the door shutting loudly behind her.

"Good morning, Tyrion." Sansa greeted him. He looked at her with a cocked head.

"Did what I think happened last night, happen?" He held his cup between his hands.

"We did, my l- Tyrion." She affirmed.

"Is that why you are greeting me with a smile today?" Tyrion mused. Sansa looked down at him as she passed. She placed herself in the seat in front of her vanity, taking the brush in hand.

"You could have your handmaiden do that for you." Tyrion watched her. She let down her hair and began to brush it all the same.

"I do not want any more prying eyes." Sansa said. Tyrion smiled at her.

"You are becoming a wise woman, my lady." He said.

"I have learned that no one can be trusted." Sansa looked at him through the help of the mirror. Tyrion had to look down. _Of course she would be wary of the people she had come to trust, since her mother and brother were promised shelter and were slaughtered like animals instead._

"Except I must trust you, Tyrion." She turned in her chair to look at him. He looked up into her blue eyes. "You are holding a precious secret of which I wish no one to know."

"Of course, my odd wife," He took a sip of wine. "But tell me one of your secrets, my dear Sansa."

"What is it, my lord? I do not promise I will give an answer." She turned back to the looking glass.

"Were you pleased as you could be, given the circumstances?" Tyrion knew she had enjoyed at least some of his time with her, given the gasps and whimpers she was unable to hold back.

Sansa turned to look at him once again. "It was pleasant, my lord. But do not let it go to your already too big head."

"It seems my wife has found her bold tongue." Tyrion could not help but be internally glad that she was starting to peek back out into the light. "Perhaps another tryst will make her prone to laughter?"

"Another time in the bed will only be served for its intended purpose." Sansa stood from her chair, placing the brush on her vanity. Her brilliant auburn hair cascading down over her shoulders, highlighted the curves of her breast.

_Her breasts were beautiful_, Tyrion mused as he looked over her. _Soft and untouched. And the way she writhed under my touch- it is so much easier to please her than all the whores in Westeros. A virgin is a curious thing_.

Sansa watched him with a frown on her face. She brushed her hair over her shoulder as she walked across the room to sit at the table, leaning back in the chair. "Do you understand?"

"I understand," Tyrion groaned. "You are a tease for such a high born lady."

"And you are a too much a pervert for a lord," Sansa's eyebrow rose as she met his eyes, a small smile pushed at the corners of her mouth this time. Tyrion laughed at her.

"You are too right, my lady," he said. He took the chair across from Sansa, the wine cup still held fast in his hand. "You were out for an early stroll this morning," He attempted to make light conversation, seeing his wife was in one of her more cheerful moods. Tyrion looked across to Sansa and was pleased to see that her kind blue eyes watched him instead of looking away.

"Lady Margaery asked for my presence at her breaking of fast," Sansa replied. "Which you would have known had you been up for the time of breaking of fast."

"I was so tired after such an expenditure of...energy, last night." Tyrion smiled over the rim of his cup, then took another sip. Sansa looked away, shifting from one hip to the other in her chair. She took a deep breath and looked back to him. "Sansa Stark is ashamed by the mention of lust," he teased.

"I am not, my lord," Sansa said, though her cheeks were red at their high points. _Cheeks like the Tully's._

"Your flushing cheeks give you away," Tyrion whispered across to her. She blushed even harder and looked away.

"I am not used to such vulgar conversation," she attempted to rebuttal him.

"Welcome to married life with the demon monkey," he outspread his arms in mock welcome. "I cannot promise that it will be an easy life, but you will enjoy your nights."

"You shouldn't call yourself such," Sansa said.

"Everyone else does," he took a sip of wine. "I know you have thought such words."

"I cannot lie," Sansa placed her hand on the table. "However, I have learned better as I bear my own label now."

"Disgraced daughter and demon monkey," Tyrion mused. "You should find pride in the name, pride in your faults, because if you continue to deny the name the laughter in the courts will only be salt in your wounds." Sansa's blue eyes dimmed with pain. "Take some advice from your halfman husband."

"They may mock you," Sansa lifted her hand from the table to run it through her soft hair. "But you have been the only one to show me kindness. You do not rub salt into my current wounds."

"I have more of a penchant for mercy than the rest of my family." Tyrion said.

"You have shown more honor to your house name than your sweet sister and your kingslayer brother."

"Do I detect a hint of flattery from a Stark girl?" Tyrion enjoyed teasing her, especially since she was beginning to fight back with clever banter. "I should write this down in the calendars of the day a Stark complimented a Lannister. Peace may come to us yet."

"I am a Lannister as well," Sansa responded, dropping her eyes to her lap again. _She cannot look one in the eye when she lies. Such a wonderful mummer on such a pathetic stage_.

"That is nothing but horseshit," Tyrion laughed as he placed his wine cup on the table. "You are a Lannister by name. I am not as stupid as many think me to be, my wife, and you have the North in your veins. It is a wonder you did not freeze my cock off last night."

"And you are as vulgar as the South is shallow," Sansa looked back at him.

"A statement which I cannot argue," Tyrion raised his eyebrow at her. "You were avoiding a question, my dear Sansa. How was your morning with her soon to be grace?"

"It was pleasant. Margaery is a very kind woman-"

"An absolute rose, I have heard," Tyrion smiled at his own joke. Sansa rolled her eyes. "You do not find my jape funny?"

"It is taking all my energy to keep from bursting apart at the insides," Sansa replied, though her voice was dry and hinted otherwise. Tyrion sighed and grabbed his wine cup in hand again.

"One day I will have you laughing," Tyrion threatened. Sansa leaned forward in her chair, resting her arms on the table before her.

"I do not laugh at crude jokes and I do not find making japes at the few people who treat me kindly to be very funny. Forgive me, my lord, if I wish not to be merry." Sansa said. Tyrion hung his head for a moment.

"Of course, my joke at the expensive of Lady Tyrell was in poor taste. I am hoping that you are able to forgive me," Tyrion answered sincerely. He was trying to make her happy, trying to make her smile. She was an absolutely beautiful, innocent girl given to such tragedy.

"I will forgive," Sansa agreed. "But the North does not forget." She stood from her chair to make her way back to the window. Tyrion sighed, leaning back in his own chair now.

"Words I've heard far too often," he muttered into his cup.

A knock came presently at the door and Tyrion groaned. "Yes?"

The door opened and Podrick appeared from behind the heavy wood. Tyrion smiled at the young squire, extending his hand to the chair next to him. "Podrick, my dear friend, come and sit. Enjoy a glass of wine."

Podrick entered skittishly (_he is so nervous around the lovely Sansa. She and her womanly charms_, he thought, amused) and came toward the table. "M'lord, I...I have come with a message to Lady Lannister today."

"Since when has Podrick become your handmaiden?" he turned to look over at Sansa. She appeared just as surprised. She turned outwards, her right hand on her chest.

"For me?" She asked. Podrick nodded his head. "Where did it come from?"

"From Lord Baelish," Podrick handed forth an envelope. Tyrion looked to Sansa and saw that she turned pale as she took the yellowed paper from Podrick's hand. She was not quick to open it, her eyes glancing toward Tyrion's direction.

"Isn't Petyr Baelish a bit old for you?" Tyrion asked with a smile. "Tell Littlefinger the next time he wishes to send my wife a message, he should at least have the decency to visit."

"If you will recall, dear husband," Sansa's voice was tight and harsh. "Lord Baelish has returned to the Vale. Thank you, Podrick," she tipped her head at the squire. "That will be all."

"I...I..." Podrick stammered as he looked at Sansa.

"Pod, do not let my wife's beauty intimidate you," Tyrion spoke up.

"What is it?" Sansa asked with impatience.

"I just wanted to say, m'lady, that I...I am sorry." Podrick turned suddenly and made his way toward the door. Sansa paused for a moment and then called after the squire.

"Thank you, Podrick. Your sympathies are appreciated."

The squire nodded awkwardly and looked now to Tyrion. "Is there anything I can do for m'lord."

"Not for the time being," Tyrion waved him away. "Perhaps come in an hour with some afternoon meal."

"Of course, m'lord." Podrick bowed and made his way out of the room.

Tyrion turned to look at Sansa who was perched on her vanity chair with the now opened letter in her hand. She read the words quickly, her light eyes darting over the page. Tyrion cleared his throat to get her attention, but it proved futile.

"My dear wolf, what does Littlefinger require of you?" He spoke up. Sansa looked up towards him, her cheeks still quite pale.

"He just wishes to send his apologies. He..he has requested me to meet one of his men in the garden with whom he sent a small token of his sympathies." She struggled for words. Her blue eyes returning to the page.

"Sansa-" Tyrion sat up in the chair. Her eyes returned to his face. _A poor, naive, desperate little creature. _

"My lord," she said. Tyrion got up from his chair and came to stand in front of her. She was nearer eye level now, so he reached out to touch her hand again. Gently, so she knew he was not reaching forward to harm her.

"I just-I wish you to be careful in your communications with Littlefinger." Tyrion ran his thumb over the back of her hand. She looked down at the gesture and then back at him.

"Is this an order not to speak with him?" Sansa asked.

"No, because you are smart enough to find a way," Tyrion commented. "I am just asking you to be wary."

"Lord Baelish was one of my mother's closest friends. I can lend him just a little of my trust." Sansa stood from her chair with haste. "I can trust him more than I can trust you and I have lent you some secrets."

"Sansa, be careful with your confidence. You know that the Spider has his little birds everywhere around this castle." Tyrion looked up at her. Sansa let out a guttural sound of disgust, making her way quickly across the room.

"Sansa-"

"I am to go to the gardens to accept Lord Baelish's gift to me, if my lord allows it." Sansa's gaze was sharp and he could see the anger dance in them. Tyrion sighed.

"You are not my prisoner and I am not to command you," Tyrion said. "I mean, I choose not to command you. I am only passing on some words of wisdom."

"Thank you, my lord." Though her words suggested anything but gratitude. She made her way out of the room and Tyrion shook his head. _Just when I thought I had melted some of the ice from her blood she reminds me that she is a woman of the North and nothing will thaw her._


	5. Threat

**A/N: Happy Friday everyone! Thanks for reading and the reviews. Enjoy! - Lydia**

* * *

Shae's curved hip was gentle and smooth. He relished the supple skin as he rested his head on her stomach, her skin pressing against his neck and shoulders. She was heaving in exertion still, he had recovered his breath. _Perhaps she is overacting a little too much_. Tyrion mused.

"What is on your mind, my lion," Shae's hand extended over his chest, her fingers dancing on the tender skin atop his belly. Tyrion sighed.

"The struggles of living with a newly blossomed wife." Tyrion muttered. Shae sat up and he slid down onto her bare lap. Her breasts were now above him, teasing him once more, and he longed to caress them again- but Shae was clearly upset.

"You were the one who put yourself in such a position." She was still bitter. But Tyrion could not explain to her that he could not run off and marry a whore. He was a dwarf, forever unable to blend into society. What was more is that he knew no craft of a lower born citizen. His talents were reading and regurgitating what was read. He would stick out and he would not be able to support the both of them. _Damn being high born and low stature_. Tyrion cursed his birth inwardly.

"I will not speak to you on such matters because you are unwilling to listen." Tyrion said. "I am saving that girl. You know if she was without protection Joffrey's bloodlust would spill her blood on the steps of the castle. The rest of her family has been slaughtered."

"Aww look at the brave little man protecting the little girl from a teenage boy," Shae mocked him. Tyrion groaned as his head hit against the bed, she had slipped out from underneath him and was dressing.

"Shae-"

"I will protect this little girl with my knife, a thing that can actually kill a man." Shae growled. Tyrion did his best to keep from rolling his eyes.

"Shae, I already told you we do not need to speak-" Tyrion tried to interject.

"Yes, patronize me. Say 'Oh Shae, you are a stupid whore and do not understand what it means to be a highborn lord who has all this protection because he has a big fancy last name'." She was fuming as she tied her dress tightly around her body. Tyrion shook his head.

"Shae, you think I do not want to be with you? I cannot help where the gods have placed us."

"Fuck the gods," Shae yelled.

"Would you hush!" Tyrion urgently lunged at her.

"Why? Because if someone finds us you will be in trouble? Can you not use your big fancy name? Tell them you will kill them because you are such and such a person? Or is it because you do not want your little baby wife to know that you are fucking someone else?" She turned on him.

"Shae, I am sorry that I married another girl. As you must bear witness, she does not want to be in this union anymore than I wish to be. She was left with the monster," He said. Shae let out a groan of disgust. "Shae, I am trying to protect you. I am dangerous to interact with and as dangerous as I am to other people."

"Why did you marry her?" Shae looked at him with her large brown eyes. Tyrion was silent for a moment. "You could have done something-"

"I could not have denied my lord father. What's more, I wanted to give her some semblance of a safe place. The girl would have been beaten and starved and the gods know what else _because of her name_. She did nothing wrong. She was a wide eyed, dream filled youth. She did not ask for her life to be torn apart."

"And so you thought you could be the knight in shining armor that she was always yearning for?" Shae looked down at him.

"I wanted to give that girl some protection-"

"You are not her knight in shining armor," Shae stalked toward the door.

"Shae-" Tyrion called after her. The woman stopped at the door before turning to him with hate in her eyes.

"You were supposed to be mine."

She opened the door and closed it loudly behind her. Tyrion let out a sigh and crumpled back onto the bed with a deflated groan. _The gods bless Sansa, she has married me_.

* * *

The sun was shining brightly as Sansa made her way through the gardens. She had left Shae behind for her meeting; surely Lord Baelish had sent this messenger with news other than his condolences. A gift was not enough to save her from her sorrow. _Why must my fate always be in the hands of men?_

She was greeted by Ser Dontos who came to her side, wrapping his arm about her elbow.

"M'lady." He greeted her. Sansa turned to look at the older knight.

"Are you here for Lord Petyr?" She asked.

"I have come to pass on what he has planned for you, my dear." Ser Dontos kept his gaze straight. "He is planning on sending a vessel to take you to the Vale on the night of Joffrey's wedding."

Sansa inhaled sharply. "That is in four weeks time."

"You had promised Lord Baelish that you would be able to leave at any moment, did you not?" Ser Dontos asked.

"Of course, I will be ready to go. But how will I know when to meet you."

"You will know, Lord Baelish promises. You will have to excuse yourself from the wedding."

"But I will be sitting near Joffrey's head table, since I am married to his uncle." Sansa remarked. "How will I be able to sneak away with no one noticing? That will be impossible."

"Lord Baelish said you would doubt him so. He promises that some...events might occur which could make it possible." Ser Dontos said. Sansa had placed her free arm on the arm Ser Dontos escorted her with. He placed his hand gently on her fingers. "Have faith, my dear. We will not let the key to the North slip idly through our fingers."

"No, I certainly do believe Lord Petyr's promises. And I am most thankful for his aid in helping me get away from here, but I do have some questions-"

"Naturally. And just as you question the gods and command no answers you should do the same for Lord Petyr."

"Does he think of himself as a god?" Sansa asked with a laugh.

"No, he is too humble to think of that. But he has even extended his hand so graciously to me. I make the comparison in good faith." Ser Dontos stopped and turned to her.

"I shall have to trust your good faith," Sansa reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently between her fingers. "I thank you, Ser Dontos, for being the connection between Lord Petyr and I."

"It is my pleasure, my lady." He bowed forward, but tipped too far and struggled for balance.

"Is there another time when I should try to contact you, in case Lord Petyr has more instructions?" She asked. Ser Dontos nodded his head.

"Meet me near the godswood next week at this time." He instructed. "Lord Petyr will have more information for me to give to you."

"Of course," Sansa nodded her head.

"And I was instructed to give you this," He held out a small box to her. She took it in her hands and opened it to behold a gold ring with a bright red ruby shimmering on the band. Sansa smiled at the gift. "Lord Petyr said that red always complimented your mother and her beautiful reddish locks; he believes red is also a color which could do you well."

"Tell Lord Petyr that his gift is very appreciated." Sansa bit her lip as the mention of her mother hit her in the gut like a swift kick. "And thank him for his sympathies."

"Certainly, my lady." He bowed. "I must be on my way. But do not forget. Next week at the godswood."

"Do not worry, my dear Ser, I will be there." She promised. Ser Dontos looked past her, his eyes widening a bit and then bowed to her quickly.

"My apologies, my lady, in regards to your family." He turned quickly and made his way back through the gardens.

Sansa turned to see Cersei taking quick steps toward her. Sansa looked around for a way to slip off, but it was clear that Cersei saw her and meant to come and speak with her. Sansa steeled herself for the unpleasant encounter.

"My little dove," Cersei wore her forced smile, her blue eyes filled with nothing but hatred. "Did you enjoy the little present I sent you?"

"Your Grace," Sansa carefully curtsied. "It was a beautiful dress, too beautiful for me to possibly wear."

Cersei quietly laughed, reaching out to tuck one of Sansa's strands behind her ear. "Well, my bird, you are humble as always. I can arrange for another dress to be made, but it will cost and the time it will take..."

"I will wear it proudly, Your Grace." Sansa replied quickly.

"I am trying to show you kindness, Sansa, since you are freed from your traitor family. Maybe the court will look past their sins to see you are loyal." Cersei's head tipped to the left as she looked at Sansa. Sansa knew that gaze; Cersei was waiting for her to say something wrong. She wanted Sansa's head, now that she was the last Stark. "You are loyal, are you not?"

"I am proud to wear the Lannister lion, shedding my traitor's sigil," Sansa looked down at her hands, they trembled as she clenched them together before her belly. Cersei let out her musical giggle once more.

"Of course you are, my little Sansa. You are a clever girl." Cersei proceeded forward, Sansa followed in obligation. "Sometimes I think it is a shame that you are not the bride to stand before the septon in a month's time."

Sansa hung her head as she walked in step with the queen . _Of course she wants me to marry Joffrey, she knows that I would be dead by his hands in a year's time. My traitor blood would sour him somehow, no matter how many orders I obeyed_.

"Yes, Your Grace," Sansa nodded her head, her hands locked tightly together.

"My brother must enjoy your cleverness," Cersei continued in conversation while Sansa prayed to gods that she would tire of her.

"I am sure he does, Your Grace,"

"When he isn't spending his time as a drunk nuisance, I pity you, my little dove," Cersei apologized in a voice which suggested the complete opposite. Sansa was sure if she looked at the Queen Regent that she could see the corners of her mouth fighting to remain straight.

"I thank you for your pity, Your Grace." Sansa could feel the drone in her throat, her thanks and apologies spoken again and again. _I am still the little bird singing their songs_.

She had followed Cersei from the gardens back into the castle. The older woman was intent on keeping Sansa in her grasp. "Tell me, my lady, what news did Ser Dontos bring to you."

Sansa's cheeks reddened as she met Cersei's eyes. "I...I...he happened to bring a message from Lord Baelish...who...who assured me that I was lucky to have shed my birth name, because my family were-"

"I seem to recall that Petyr Baelish had a bit of a liking for your mother when he was a boy," Cersei mused as she looked over at Sansa. "Or so the ancient rumors say.'

"Yes, Your Grace." Sansa replied.

"I just wanted to be assured of your safety, since you must give great care to whom you trust. You are, after all, the remaining Stark," Cersei leaned toward Sansa, her blonde curls slipping over her shoulder. "It would be so easy for an _accident_ to happen. I would not want to see you strangled in your sleep or poisoned by your wine." Sansa could feel Cersei's smile as she stared at the ground.

"Well how wonderful to fall upon my sister and my wife chatting like young girls," Tyrion's voice came further up the halls. Sansa looked up and watched him make his way toward her and Cersei, his sell sword, _Bronn_?, following behind.

"Little brother," Cersei's voice lost its music as she spoke through barely parted teeth. "What a...pleasure."

"I am sure you are reserving your enthusiasm so as not to startle my wife." Tyrion laughed as he stood before the two. Sansa slowed her exhale so Cersei would not hear the sigh which escaped from her lips. Tyrion was not much of a knight, but she was glad for his saving presence in the moment.

"Your little wife was telling me about how lovely the dress I sent her last night looked on her. She is excited to wear it for the wedding, and of course, she is beyond joyful for Joffrey and Margaery's fortunes."

"Yes, I am sure she is." Tyrion spoke slowly, looking up at Sansa under his prominent brow. Sansa bit her lip as she looked back at him, her eyes fluttering back to the ground. "Well, I hate to break off such an enlightening conversation, but I have been looking for my beautiful wife all about King's Landing."

"You should ask Ser Dontos where she has been," Cersei smiled wickedly at Sansa as the girl looked over at her blue eyes. Sansa blanched at the suggestion. She looked over at Tyrion quickly, catching his own eyes flash to look at her. But only for a moment.

"I sent her to Ser Dontos myself; she received word from Poderick this morning that Lord Baelish had sent our lovely Sansa a wedding present, with great apologies for not making our ceremony." Tyrion spoke quickly. Sansa kept her eyes on Cersei, holding her breath as Tyrion weaved the half truth.

"I did not mean to pry on you and your wife's business," Cersei looked down at her brother with steel eyes. "I just wanted to make sure no harm would come to the little dove."

"I am alright, I assure you, Your Grace." Sansa found the courage to speak up. "I am very thankful for your concerns."

"And I thank you as well, sister," Tyrion's voice mocked Cersei. "Now I must be on my way with my lady so I may keep a diligent eye on her wellbeing."

Sansa tensed as Cersei's hand enclosed her upper arm, squeezing it gently, but her nails dug into the woman's skin. Sansa forced herself not to wince. "Until another day, my little dove."

"Yes, Your Grace." Sansa nodded her head. Cersei looked down at her little brother, her mouth tight and her eyes burning with anger. She then walked past the dwarf, her long skirts billowing out behind her.

"I hope my sister did not maul you too badly," Tyrion said. Sansa let out a louder sigh, her hands resting on the billows of her skirt.

"It was a pleasant meeting, seeing Her Grace." Sansa replied. Tyrion groaned and shook his head.

"Please, Sansa, there is no need to lie to me." Tyrion extended his bent arm up to her, indicating that she could take it if she desired.

Normally Sansa would have turned to walk, allowing him to catch up. Today, however, she felt safer having someone who meant her no eminent harm close to her side. She stepped forward and laced her arm around his wrist. She glanced down through the corner of her eye and noticed that Tyrion looked back at his sell sword with eyebrows raised in surprise.

"You know my sell sword and dear friend, Bronn?" Tyrion formally introduced the two. Sansa looked back at him with a faint, friendly smile.

"I did not think sell swords were meant to be companions, my l-Tyrion." Sansa said.

"Only a fool considers a sell sword his friend," The man's deep voice from behind startled her.

"Well in some circles, 'fool' and 'Imp' go hand in hand," Tyrion replied. "No need to jump, Sansa, Bronn has more bark than bite when speaking with my friends."

"I didn't mean to startle m'lady," Bronn let out a raspy laugh. "I promise my sword won't go anywheres near you."

Sansa shifted uncomfortably away from the sell sword as his words had more meaning than one, no doubt.

"Bronn, I pay you to slaughter my enemies, not shame my wife." Tyrion scolded gently.

"You're lucky you can still afford me," Bronn replied. "Isn't your kingdom's treasury going to shit?"

"That is where the friend part comes into play where you do things out of whatever small hint of goodness lies within your blackened heart," Tyrion was quick witted; Sansa could not deny that she found some amusement in the exchange between the two. "Does my lady smile? By the gods, there is hope." Tyrion teased her, causing Sansa's grin to widen and her lips to part, revealing a small smile.

"I just think you and your sell sword-"

"Bronn, m'lady," Bronn leaned forward close enough where she could smell his wine saturated breath.

"Bronn," Sansa corrected herself. "Have a very sharp wits, you both make for pleasant entertainment."

"Bronn, if we ever end up being taken by Stannis, we can preserve our lives by suggesting to become his court jesters."

"I can't say I'll be flying the Lannister colors if Stannis comes about," Bronn replied.

"Oh the loyalty of sell swords." Tyrion rolled his eyes. "Why don't you go find someone else to annoy?"

"I don't need you at the end of the day anyway, m'lord." Sansa watched Bronn bow to her husband mockingly.

"And at the end of the day, I still have the prettiest woman." Tyrion retorted as the sell sword turned to leave the pair.

She and Tyrion walked arm in wrist back to their quarters in silence, but Sansa noticed that the smile which tugged at the corners of her mouth had not yet ceased its pulling.


	6. Thankfulness

**A/N: Thank you once again for the kind reviews and interest in the story. I truly appreciate them. - Lydia**

* * *

"What did Bronn mean earlier?" Sansa asked from the windowsill where she had curled up for the afternoon, this time taking a needle, thread, and cloth with her to distract her from the memories which flooded her in the quiet.

She and Tyrion had returned to their room only to have silence continue between the two. The two shared a nearly silent midday meal as Podrick and Shae watched on. Conversation had been just as lively between the two during their supper. After the table was cleared and both the squire and the handmaiden dismissed, the two went in search of activities to dull the silent air. Tyrion went to reading a book he had selected from one of his many piles. Sansa, not knowing entirely what to do with herself in his presence, returned to a hobby she had once found comforting: needlework.

Tyrion looked up from his book, he sat across the way in a chair. "What do you mean?"

"About the kingdom's money." Sansa looked up from the taut cloth, her hand pulling the thread upwards, the needle clasped between her forefinger and thumb.

"Bronn should not be so foolish as to speak about things he does not fully understand." He said. Tyrion placed the book on the chest in front of his chair where had had propped his feet, which were soon replaced on the wood as Tyrion reclined against the back of the chair.

"So does that mean there are whispers about the kingdom's treasury?" Sansa asked, her hands falling to her lap as she directed her attention to Tyrion.

"There are always whispers of everything." Tyrion replied. Sansa let out an exasperated groan, to which Tyrion could only chuckle. "Why are you so interested, my dear wolf, in how much we lions hoard? Isn't this a boring topic for such a refined lady as yourself?"

"Do not mock me," Sansa's voice was hard. She did not need another person labeling her interests, patronizing her. _But you would not have cared about coin, once upon a time. Not when you thought that your darling prince was going to take your under his wing and rain on your all your delights_. Sansa hung her head in shame as she scolded herself.

"The money is running dry," Tyrion responded. "And this extravagant wedding which my dear sister is holding for my nephew- well, that will be near scraping the bottom of the barrel, if not wiping it clean." He smiled to himself before speaking again. "Though I suppose Joffrey is _our_ nephew now." Sansa found herself smiling again, looking across the way at the dwarf with the twinkle in his blue eyes. "There is a statement I never would have thought would come into existence." She turned back to the stitching before her.

"No, I was expecting you to be cleaning King's Landing of coin," Tyrion chuckled. Sansa's cheeks burned red yet again, no doubt people would think she to be a rose herself with such a deep shade of red she carried on her face constantly.

"I think Margaery would not like to have so much spent on her," Sansa replied. Tyrion sighed.

"I am sure Margaery is enjoying all the money which is to be spent on her," His boots made a clunk as he hit the ground. "Be careful not to hold the Tyrells to such a high standard. They are nowhere close as honorable as your wolf clan."

"I think Margaery is a kind person," Sansa retorted. "I think she would care very deeply about the state of the kingdom."

"I cannot convince your opinion otherwise, Sansa. But there is more to Margaery Tyrell that meets the eye. Almost as much as her brother," Tyrion smiled. He had waddled over to the small serving table and was filling up a glass of wine.

"I wanted to- to thank you," Sansa felt the words burst from her lips.

"I cannot force one's personal convictions- outward obedience and inward defiance are so often hand in hand." Tyrion took a draught of wine.

"I am not thanking you for allowing me my own opinions," Sansa's stomach churned."I...I suppose I should thank the gods for your mercy-"

"Do not thank the gods for something which was not a blessing to you," Tyrion replied.

"I am thanking you for interrupting the conversation between Her Grace and myself this afternoon."

"Sansa, it is my joy to break up any conversation in which Cersei looks like she is about to devour her prey," He smiled. "It ruins all her fun while giving me a side of satisfaction."

"Your timing was a blessing."

"What was it my sister was prowling around you about?" Tyrion stood drinking his wine as he watched Sansa attentively.

"What she said was not a falsehood," Sansa began, her chest heavy and breathing became a hard act to perform. "She asked after me about the dress."

"What a kindness," Tyrion's voice was dry.

"And she talked a bit about the wedding," Sansa's head returned to her lap. She was trying to breath more deeply as her raw throat burned with every inhale. She bit back more tears. _So many tears. What do you expect, stupid girl? To drown?_

"Sansa," Tyrion placed his cup back on the table, he came to her side. _He has come so close as of late. _Sansa watched him shimmering and blurring as he pulled himself on the window seat next to her. She was silent during the process, afraid that her cheeks would grow tight with salt water once again.

"Sansa," Tyrion repeated himself again. He did not reach out to her and a part of her wanted so badly for him to place a reassuring hand on her thigh.

"I do not wish to disgrace the Queen Regent," Sansa shook her head.

"Cersei is quite capable of doing that herself." Tyrion assured her.

"She asked me about Ser Dontos and then told me that she was only inquiring because she was worried for my safety. That so many...accidents could happen." Sansa was not sure when her limbs began shaking. Her fingers clutched the hoop of the stitching project tightly, dropping the needle into her lap. She started to sense it creeping up into her forearm, her shoulders, her jaw.

"Oh, Sansa," Tyrion's voice was filled with genuine concern. Sansa's mouth opened, her breath as shaky as her parted lips. She dropped her project to the floor finally, grabbing the skirts of her dress.

Warmth overtook her right hand, the one nearest her husband. She looked down and saw that his hand wrapped around the curve of hers. "Her threats are none with which you should be worried."

"She is right; I am the last Stark of Winterfell. It would take nothing for her to poison me or send someone to strangle me in my sleep." Sansa collapsed forward, her left hand cradled her forehead as dizziness overcame her. Her right was still being held by Tyrion.

"Sansa," She realized that him saying her name was comforting. _I have a name, I have his sympathies. _She closed her eyes until a pulling of her right hand got her attention. She looked down at Tyrion, whose jaw was set and tight.

"When I placed that cloak over your shoulders I extended my protection." He assured her.

He pulled her further down toward him until her shoulders were closer to him. He then pulled her down into his lap, her right ear pressed against his stunted thighs. She took comfort in the gesture, her left hand crossing over her body and resting on his kneecap before her face. Tyrion's hand went to running through the hairs near her exposed cheek, his fingers lightly brushing against her high cheeks and temples. Sansa closed her eyes.

"My sister has tried to kill before and I've been her foil. You have my protection, Sansa, and I promise you, I will not let any harm come to you." He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her temple. "And I promise that I will give you another Stark."

Sansa shuddered as his breath tickled the outside of her ear. The small tugs of her hair sent shivers of ecstasy down her spine. _How long have I longed just for a kind touch? Why does he extend such mercy? What will he want from me?_

"Which is why I extend my thanks to you," Sansa said, her cheek warming from the heat radiating from his body.

"There is no need for thank yous, it is my duty to uphold my promise." He assured her, his thumb tracing her cheek bone gently.

_This was the honor which my father once promised me,_ Sansa thought as she grew silent in Tyrion's lap. His hand was now rubbing her shoulders, her arms. Gently warming her frigid limbs. His fingers squeezing the frozen muscles. _But he promised I would get someone better than a Lannister_. Sansa closed her eyes tightly, banishing the memory of her father's head splitting from his neck, falling before his body. She tried to think of something else.

So she thought of brushing out Lady's soft ashy hair, just like the way the hands about her head did ever so often. The tugs, the pulls. And soon Lady was before her, smiling with her direwolf snout only the way direwolves can. Her tongue hanging happily from her parted muzzle. The fur was warm and smelled like the pureness of snow with the heady scent of the winter trees outside of Winterfell. Lady pushed up against Sansa, her body warming the girl's shaking parts. She licked her face, her tongue a comfort. Sansa wrapped her arms about her direwolf-

And awoke to the moonlight streaming through the window. She was on the bed, her head on a pillow and no longer on Tyrion's lap A blanket was draped over her body, pulled up to her neck. _He must have had Podrick move me_. She gathered up the thought as wakefulness came to her. And with her consciousness came her panic.

She sat upright in bed, looking about the room with a heaving chest as she heard footsteps. _Cersei's men, no doubt. Someone with a rope to wrap about my long neck_. Her hand came to her throat, her fingers curling around the supple skin.

A small mutter drew her attention again. She looked next to her to see Tyrion close to her side. So close she was surprised that her sudden movement had not awoken him. He lay on his side, his eyes closed gently in sleep. His scar was dark over his forehead in the moon's light.

Sansa lowered herself back to the mattress, pulling the blanket over her chest once more as she settled her head back on the pillow. She closed her eyes, her heart slowing its rapid pounding in her ears as she let out a deep exhale. There would be no man tonight to try and strangle her in the sheets. Not with him so close to her. Not with him between her and the door.

She thought of Lady again, the pleasant scene of the two of them before the walls of Winterfell, this time with snow on the ground. Lady bounced about the cold powder.

And with the thoughts of Lady in her mind and the steady inhale and exhale of her husband beside her, Sansa fell into a deep sleep that she had not experience in King's Landing in many a month.


	7. Remembering

**A/N: Again, thank you everyone for the kind words. I am still apprehensive about the reception of the story, and keeping the characters IN character, so please yell at me if I have something off kilter. Happy Friday -Lydia**

* * *

The halls to his sister's chambers were lined with guards in heavy armor with formidable weapons on their girded hips. _You guard your lady day and night while she makes threats to toward young vulnerable women in her keep. _ Tyrion smirked as he passed, Bronn following lazily behind. The sounds of the sellsword eating echoed along the silent chamber halls, Tyrion saw the looks that some of the soldiers gave Bronn. One of the men stopped before Cersei's door, his sword held upright in his hand.

"Stop! Her Grace has mentioned no visitors." The man's voice was deep and harsh, Tyrion supposed he was meant to scare any potential visitors away.

"I was not aware that family had to have permission to visit one another." Tyrion said innocently. Bronn threw the core of his fruit at the foot of the man before the two.

"Seems like Her Grace cannot have decency toward her own kin," He mocked. "This kingdom is surely fucked."

_Ahh I love when he knows to work over someone with me_. "It's making its way to the bed to say the least."

"Wait!" The knight called after Tyrion as he started to turn. "I will permit you to enter, only because you are kin."

_Oh Cersei, you and your pathetic watchman_. "I thank you." Tyrion watched the knight as he begrudgingly opened the door.

Cersei sat at her vanity, one of her ladies in waiting was brushing out her golden mane as Cersei sat perfectly still. Tyrion's entrance, however, caused her to turn in her chair to inspect her visitor. A scowl crossed her ruby lips and she turned back to the mirror, signaling she was not interested in his presence. Tyrion entered further into her presence all the same,

"What do _you_ want?" Cersei scowled at Tyrion in the mirror.

"Just to visit my dear, loving sister." Tyrion responded. He spotted wine on her table and made his way towards it.

"You did not come to merely drink of my wine, did you dear brother?" Cersei's voice was sickeningly sweet, yet she did not move from her pose in front of the mirror.

"No, I came here more on my lady wife's need than anything." Tyrion greedily poured the wine into a cup which had been upturned on the table.

"How sweet. Does she wish death instead of marriage to you?" A smile crept across her face.

"Quite the opposite," Tyrion took a sip of the wine. "Sister, you hoard all of the good wine for yourself."

Cersei turned to look at her brother with flashing blue eyes. "What do you want, Tyrion? Why are you here?"

"To tell you that if any of your men lay a hand on Sansa, they will rue the day they listened to you." Tyrion watched her over the lip of his cup as he took a deeper gulp of wine.

"How dare you-" Cersei stood, pushing her handmaiden away from her. "You have come to me with threats?"

"Only warnings." Tyrion assured her. "As I have told your son, Sansa is no longer your 'little dove' to torment at the hands of your paw."

"How adorable, the little man protects his wife." Cersei mocked her brother as she joined him at the table, pouring for herself a cup of wine.

"Sansa is under my protection. I would use the argument that she is a Lannister now, but family blood has proven to be ineffective at keeping one alive." Tyrion said.

"Are you falling in love with that Stark girl?" Cersei smiled over the rim of her cup. "Has she taken that black murderous heart of yours and run with it?" Her smile was grating and he found rage swelling in his belly at the sight.

"Sansa Stark is the key to the North, or have you forgotten as well? If we lose her, we lose the Lannister claim on Winterfell." Tyrion glared at her from under his thick brow. "And we lose whatever chance we have of winning the northern houses to our side."

"Of course you have all the smart answers, Imp." She laughed as she took another draught of wine. "You always know the clever way out of things." Her laugh was not as genuine as she made it.

"I believe it has saved King's Landing," Tyrion said. "It has been wonderful as always to speak with you, my dear Cersei," Tyrion put the half filled cup on the table and turned. "I have many important matters to see to as the Master of the Coin. Finding the coins seems to be the main job I have now."

Cersei did not reply as he made his way to the door. _I hope she has gotten the message. Sansa does not need any more cruelty done to her, she has been dealt enough._

"Tyrion," Cersei called after him as he approached the door. Tyrion turned to see his sister returned to her vanity, sitting pristinely in the chair. Her blue eyes bored into him through the reflection on the mirror. "I will rip her away from you. I will tear that little girl up and you will be able to do nothing more than watch."

Tyrion made no response, instead turning to the door and exiting, shutting it with force as he joined to Bronn and the two guards at the door.

"I take it things went well," Bronn replied with a half cocked smile. Tyrion's heart was pumping in his chest as he quickly made his way down the hall. Bronn had no trouble keeping up.

"I will pay you all the coin I have," Tyrion looked up to Bronn out of the sight of Cersei's bedchamber. "To make sure that no harm comes to Sansa."

"You've certainly change your tune, m'lord." Bronn smiled with a glint in his eyes. "What will Shae think?"

"Shae has no rights to the North, she is of no political importance," Tyrion responded. "And she is a grown woman who has made her choices, not a young girl who has been caged since she began her womanhood."

Bronn shook his head, a grin still on his face. "What did your sister say to get you so riled up?" It was more a ponderance out-loud than a question. But Tyrion was beyond annoyed and was not pleased with the teasing.

"Do I pay you to question me or to listen?" Tyrion turned once more, this time taking the hall which lead to his solar.

"I do a whole lot of listenin', m'lord." Bronn followed. "But half of it ain't even about killin',"

"Well, listen now, Ser Bronn." Tyrion turned with fire in his eyes and a grimace on his lips. "You kill whoever comes near that bedchamber without Sansa's agreement."

"What if it's your darling young nephew?" Bronn mused.

"_Especially_ if it is my darling young nephew." Tyrion once again turned on his heels and strode down the hall as fast as his stunted legs would take him.

* * *

Sansa held the hairnet in her hands, working her fingers over the jewels woven into the wire. _Black amethysts_. Her thumb rolled over one of the hard stones. _Why would Ser Dontos give me this? Why am I to wear this hairnet on the night of Joffrey's wedding?_ Sansa sighed as she stood from the window seat where she had curled up for the afternoon. She had taken to the gift that was given to her by Ser Dontos, a curious hairnet which he commanded her to wear the night of her intended escape.

_Perhaps it is a sign? So that the man who is looking for me in the crowd, to escort me, will know that it is I? But I would not be so hard to spot. I would be the sad looking girl with dead eyes and red hair next to the small man._ No, she could not bear herself to think of Tyrion that way. He had been a bigger man than most towards her. _Fine, next to Tyrion. At the King's table._

Sansa's fingers entangled in the wire as she ran her fingers over and over it again. _Perhaps if I rub it enough it will tell me the answers._ She knew that now was not the time to ask questions- and these questions would certainly come without answers. So she tucked the hairnet into a small box and placed it on her vanity next to the small doll. Sansa smiled at the small toy with a sinking heart. She took it up in her hands, rubbing its chest with her thumb.

_He had wanted to best for me_, She swallowed as her throat thickening, aching as she pictured the hurt look upon her father's face when he had presented her with the doll. _He wanted me to be happy. To remember that I was so young._ She brought the doll close to her face, inhaling the scent that had been adorned with the doll but had faded months ago. She closed her eyes as she kissed the porcelain head of the toy. _I should have thanked him. I should have appreciated all he had done for me. Instead I saw only what I wanted to see-_

"Is trusting Lord Baelish a mistake?" She said aloud, looking down at doll which lay in her hands. "Is there a chance I am making another mistake?" The door opened again and Sansa put the doll down quickly, placing it beside the box.

The room was quiet and silence was slowly eating her away. She barely remembered the days at Winterfell when she would laugh with Jeyne Westerling while walking down the halls. She even missed the sound of Arya's voice, she missed her teasing, and occasionally she missed her sister at the table causing mischief even if it were directed at Sansa. _Wishing does not bring people back_.

She had heard the whispers. When one is very quiet it becomes easier to understand what others are saying behind one's back. She heard them in the stillness of her grief. Joffrey wanted her brother's head to be brought to King's Landing, to be placed in front of Sansa for her to kiss on the night of his wedding. Sansa's anger had raged for him in the depths of her belly, but she was too afraid to disobey him. She was afraid of being slapped again, of being stripped, and humiliated. _But I must not let them get to me_. She scolded herself. _They cannot break my steel skin_. She could not let them.

She tried to think of something other than Joffrey; though such thoughts were few and usually her hate was directed at Cersei when distracted from the monster king. Ever since she was taken from Willas Tyrell and Highgarden. _Puppies and roses, I am no more than a name to them. And a name barely worth keeping. I continue to be such a stupid girl!_ She did not feel tears pressing against her eyes. She just felt empty as she slid into her vanity seat.

But she had felt something, yester evening she most certainly had. What had happened? Why had she allowed Cersei's threats and cruelty wound her so deep? And why had she let Tyrion embrace her like she had? He was still a _Lannister_, after all. He would help her bear a child- _He is my pawn_. She tried to look at herself in the glass. _I have become a player and I must make my first move_. She told herself the same line over and over again. Fear had kept her from moving for so long, and then desperation and grief moved her forward.

_What am I doing now?_ She reached forward on the table and took her brush in hand. She pulled her hair from the braids Shae had done for her that morning and began to brush through her red locks. _If only I was a beautiful as Margaery, perhaps I would have been noticed even sooner in the court. _

"But everyone fears the Beast King," She grumbled to herself. The sound of the door opening caused Sansa to jump in her chair, afraid to turn and see who was entering. _I should have kept Shae longer, I should have asked her to return sooner-_

Slowly she turned, her breath bated as she steeled to embrace her fate.

But it was only Tyrion. He was muttering to himself and ruddy in the cheeks as he went in search of a book in his many piles.

"My lord," Sansa stood, placing the brush on the vanity table. She knew she would have to announce her presence as Tyrion was engrossed in a hunt.

He turned to look at her and she saw the creases around his mouth pulled into a frown. His eyebrows furrowed, one cut short by the scar. Something was certainly the matter and she sent a prayer to the gods that it was not her doing.

"Ah, Sansa," Tyrion forced a smile as he looked at her. "Forgive my intrusion on your privacy, but I need a book I left here last night," He pulled a thick book from its place among the others. "I shall be on my way so you can commence in whatever it is you do with your day."

"Yes, my lord." She felt her heart sink. _But why am I saddened by his leaving? I should be glad he lets me be instead of being a constant nuisance. _

Sansa could not deny that she enjoyed the attention, the kind touches, and caring gestures. She was greedy for mercy and kindness and he was a fountain willing to give it. _He says to me that he could find kindness somewhere in his heart, but for me he has never kept it far from reach with little seeking_.

"Is something the matter, Sansa?" Tyrion paused in his leaving.

"No, m-Tyrion." She needed to say his name. Remember it, the first thing off her tongue.

"Has someone bothered you?" He inquired. Sansa's cheeks reddened.

"No, Tyrion." She insisted.

"You look very beautiful," He said. She froze and stood blinking at him. "I'm terribly sorry, that was a bit-"

"Thank you," She offered him grace. He stopped talking and smiled up at her. "I am glad to please my lord."

Tyrion's smile melted at the corners and he nodded his head curtly. "Yes, of course."

Sansa could feel her body tense when he complimented her, she was always afraid that a compliment of her appearance would lead to something-

_What, further? _A part of her laughed inwardly. _You will need to spread your legs again or your dreams of an heir will blow away with the days_.

"I am sincere, Tyrion." She tried again. "All wives wish to be pleasing to the sight of their husband." _You still whistle the words they have taught you_.

The reassurance did not settle the tension that had grown betwixt the two, but she had no more words to offer. His fingers tapped along the book's cover which he held in his hands. He turned with it, most likely returning to the solar. Sansa sighed, a heaviness settling in her chest. A sudden knock at the door startled the both. She looked at Tyrion, feeling her eyes widen as a sweep of fear overtook her body. Every knock, every entrance, every movement in this castle frightened her. And even with the promise of safety, Sansa was not sure she could trust living with any Lannister.

Tyrion raised his eyebrows at her, but called for the intruder to enter. Both were greeted by the face of Podrick; he appeared winded and was red in the face and neck. Sansa looked back at her hands, the tightness in her shoulders melting away.

"Good, Podrick, if you don't mind, I have several books I need brought to the solar to continue in my deciphering of Lord Petyr's extensive coding," Irritation lined Tyrion's voice. Sansa glanced out of the corner of her eye to catch a glance of her husband and his squire. Tyrion was looking up at the awkward boy, gesturing to the stack of books from which he had pulled the black book which now sat in Podrick's tabled hands.

"M-m-m'lord," Podrick stuttered. "I was sent to inform you that Lord Tywin has called you and your lady wife to dinner." Sansa's quickly looked back at her hands, not quite missing Podrick's glance over to her sitting in the chair.

"Someone should tell my lord father that I am in the midst of sorting out this kingdom's mess of a coin." Sansa bit her lip as she listened to Tyrion's annoyance build. "But I shall not wish such misfortune on you. Go and find Lady Sansa's handmaid and return here as soon as possible." He looked back to Sansa. "We shouldn't want to keep my family waiting."


	8. Lions

**A/N: I am SOOOO sorry for the delay. I was trying to figure out how to rework this and then midterms and papers came this way. But it is up! And I am giving you two chapters for tonight. So I hope this draft goes over a lot better :P**

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The dress which Sansa wore was uncomfortably tight around her waist as Shae had pulled the laces a bit harder than normal, she could feel the seams digging into the sides of her dress. Sansa was thankful she could at the very least breath in the silk sky blue gown, a simple dress enhanced by the black jewel work on the bodice, neckline, and sleeves. Tyrion was her compliment with a dusky blue jerkin and doublet and a face as unhappy as hers. The two were seated across from Lord Tywin and Cersei, Joffrey ruling at the head of the table. Sansa was thankful she did not have to look the monster in the eyes, but the harsh look of Lord Tywin across from her caused her bowels to quiver nonetheless.

"Where is your queen this evening?" Tyrion asked Joffrey, taking his first glass of wine in hand.

"We thought it best to have a Lannister dinner." Cersei replied for Joffrey. Sansa felt the older woman's gaze fall on her.

"A welcoming into the family for my new wife, no doubt." Tyrion muttered. Sansa turned her head slightly, her gaze dropping to look over at him. Of course Lord Tywin and Joffrey would want to remind Sansa that she was no longer a Stark, but belonged now to the Lannisters.

"At least she can say that her House is living," Joffrey's grating voice travelled from the end of the table. Sansa's breath caught, her hand pressing against her stomach as she tried to massage away the pain in her tummy. There was no sense in crying before Joffrey and giving him exactly what he wanted.

"Joffrey, I think we can cease the torment," Tywin's voice was deep and commanding, startling Sansa's concentration.

Tyrion shifted in the chair next to her, grabbing his wine glass with a violent grasp. His jaw was set, a vein popping out at his squared temple. He scratched at the scar across his nose after taking a large sip of wine. Sansa felt pity for him as she looked down at her miserable little husband. A pity she had never truly thought she could feel.

This was his family-her family now. A throng of hard and angry people with bitter grudges held onto against the Seven Kingdoms and against each other. Her mother's resentment of Jon Snow paled in comparison to the bickers among the Lannisters. Sansa never knew such hostility. While she and Ayra had certainly had their share of spats, she never feared for her life at her sister's hands. She had heard the whispers from her handmaidens about the threat Tyrion lived in after he was wounded at the Blackwater. Sansa glanced upward, peering from under her brow at the people which sat across from her.

Tywin was certainly old, but he held himself rigid pride and arrogance, making him appear younger. The look of him was cold and bitter, Sansa shivered as he looked over at her with his deep green eyes. Eyes which echoed some sort of sadness deep inside. It did not change the fact that he had no doubt orchestrated her marriage to her dwarf husband.

Next Sansa looked to Cersei. The queen was still beautiful and hid her age well, but she could not hide the sorrow which etched itself into the furrows near her lips. She sat with an cold arrogance, watching her son's every moment. She had become more plump, not grossly so, but enough to soften the bone lines below her neck and the sharp cut of her cheek bone. Perhaps the Queen Regent had as horrible penchant for wine as her brother.

Sansa could not look at the king. She had seen his face a thousand times and she knew that the pain and the bitterness did not mark his round boyish features. Joffrey truly delighted in the torment he inflicted on all his victims. The way he laughed as the guard beat her to the ground. The coldness in his blue eyes as he forced her to stare at her father's head. Joffrey's face often lurked in the depths of her dreams, never fully abandoning her even when he had set her aside. Sansa returned to looking at her hands.

The silence at the table was held tight with no conversation; Sansa would have normally broken such uneasy air at home (_A home which no longer exists_), but this situation was one where she would do better to mind her tongue. She took her fork in hand and attempted to push at the food on her plate, finding her tummy was more likely to expel her dinner than fill her up. Tyrion beside her was no help as she could feel anger and resentment radiate off of him. A peek out of the corner of her eye assured her that he had not even touched his food, but took readily to the wine. She kept her gaze on the plate before her.

"I am thinking about sending you a dress, another to try for the wedding, my little dove." Cersei finally broke the silence. Sansa jumped, her fork scraping against her plate as she jerked. She was not sure what to say to the Queen Regent, especially in the midst of her lion clan.

"Sansa, my mother has asked you a question." Joffrey's voice was lined with annoyance, but he had less cruelty after his grandfather's scolding. Sansa held back her smile as she realized that Joffrey's stupidity was not so much so that he did not know who held the real power in the room.

"Sansa," Cersei's voice was deep and sweet.

"I would give thanks for your generosity, your grace," Sansa bowed her head.

"It's been so long since you've taken up to playing with dolls," Tyrion spoke up, nursing a cup against his chest. Cersei replied with a gentle laugh and a smile which did not reach her eyebrows. "I thought we had a direwolf among our midst, not a child's play toy."

"There are no wolves at this table," Tywin corrected his son. "There are only lions here." Sansa's gaze flickered upward to meet his green stare. She was not sure how to take his statement—of course she was a wolf, perhaps masking in a lion's skin for a spell, but Tywin's tone almost suggested that she was one of them.

Tyrion pushed himself back into his chair, Sansa looked over at him. He set his jaw, looking up at her with hard eyes. She felt her breath catching, she was suffocating in this den, among the growls and the glares.

"While we speak of direwolves-Sansa, you must be ready to return to whatever wreck your house's ward left Winterfell in," Cersei took her cup in hand, a smile hidden behind the rim. But Sansa could see the joy that her now sister in law took in opening fresh wounds.

"Your grace?" Sansa asked.

"Winterfell will be yours to return to, Lady Sansa. In the mean time you will find your place in Casterly Rock until the Boltons are removed from Winterfell. Then one day your heir shall take rule from there," Tywin commented before taking a swallow of wine. "I am sure it will be much more comfortable to escape the eyes of the court after the King's dismissal of your betrothal."

"I am sure you will one day decorate Winterfell with beautiful lions," Cersei commented. Sansa dropped her hands into her lap. _If I have a baby, they will give me Winterfell? It does not make sense_.

"I am sure you will not disappoint us, Sansa," Tywin spoke over his daughter. "Casterly Rock will await you after the wedding, my son will stand as Lord until Winterfell is regained and you both brought to it."

Sansa did not want to accept the deal which was being offered before her. "I will return to Winterfell one day?" She asked.

"My aim is not to deceive you, Lady Sansa," Tywin's voice was deep and it struck a fear in her that she had never felt before. He did not need to threaten or kill like Joffrey—Tywin had already gained his power in his infamous military career. "Your son will be raised at King's Landing under the maesters here."

There was the catch; they would take her son from her and teach him what it was like to be a lion, forgetting his wolf heritage. She nodded her head. She would have no power over her son. She could not teach him to avoid the fights of the south. She had a dream of perhaps influencing her son to break all ties with the south and bringing together the North. She had ideal of bringing Winterfell together again.

"He will be raised in the best of care, my little dove, no need to begin your mourning." Cersei smiled. _Of course, you would hope to hook your claws into my child and eat him alive_.

And then Sansa remembered that she would not need to worry about Cersei or Tywin or Joffrey. She knew that Lord Petyr would come over the seas to save her, to bring her back to Winterfell without the help of Lord Tywin. And if he did fail her, if he fulfilled her husband's prophecy of being nothing but a con, she could certainly speak with Margaery. The girl understood her plight, she understood Sansa's need for escape. Margaery loved her as a sister, did she not? She had done what she could to try to spirit Sansa away to the Tyrells before she was married quickly to Tyrion.

But then there was Tyrion and…no, she would not feel bad about leaving him behind because she did not love him.

"I understand," Sansa spoke up. She looked up at Tywin, she knew what she needed to do. She needed Tywin to trust her, to respect her. "I would only want my son to be raised by the best."

"It is a true jape that I have not been told about _my _heir being sent off." Tyrion's voice was thick, his words rolling around his mouth.

"Your lady wife seems to have sense about her son's education," Tywin replied. "I would hope that you would have the same."

"Or I would have the sense to see when my father wants to turn a lion against another lion. Throw us all in the pit and rile us up for a bloodbath? He only gives me Casterly Rock when I agree to rape my wife. Sansa, do not believe that my father was a kind and loving father; he never pulled me into his lap and told me his old battle stories."

Sansa's face went white as she looked across the way to Tywin. His eyes were darkening and she could see that her husband's drunken mutterings were not amusing to him.

"Perhaps mother would have—but we'll never know since you killed her." Cersei's voice was raw and just above a whisper. The color in Tywin's voice continued to build as the color in Sansa's faded. The siblings had taken it too far, Sansa was fighting the urge to grab Tyrion's arm and beg him to stop. She did not want to awake the pride's leader; the man who could end them all in the blink of an eye.

"I am sure you would have been the darling daughter of her dreams," Tyrion shot back, his scar pulled tight as her frowned at his sister.

"I was until you came along, you monster."

"Cersei," Tywin's voice interrupted the conflict; it was sharp and loud, angry and unforgiving. Sansa found herself wincing, wishing she could hide beneath the table. "I think it is time you returned to your chambers."

"Father, I have not finished—"

"Return to your chambers, and take your son with you." Tywin's voice had dropped in volume, but it increased in severity. Sansa clasped her shaking hands between her knees, her throat was burning as it closed on her. She could not look up at the patriarch.

Tyrion began laughing at his sister in his alcohol infected state. Cersei turned and glared at her brother as she made her way from the table. Joffrey was pitching a fit, throwing his arms away from her.

"I have done nothing!" Joffrey cried out.

"Come, Joffrey, the wedding is going to tire you out and we should begin to rest." Cersei tried her soft mother voice on her irrational son. It did not work.

"Everyone is to return to their chambers, your mother has assured this dinner is over." Tywin stated. Sansa's heart was racing in her chest as she stood. Tyrion pushed himself away from the table with stiff gusto, sliding to the ground. He had not touched his food, Sansa noticed.

"Sansa," Tywin called after her. Sansa looked down at Tyrion would waddled off kilter before her. He looked up at her, concern filling his eyes. He kept moving forward, however.

Sansa turned, her head bowed to her chest.

"Yes, my lord?" She asked.

"You are a smart girl," Tywin's voice was still a growl, but he was not ready to bite her yet. "Do not disappoint me."

Sansa placed her hand on her stomach, but managed a quick curtsy. "Yes, my lord. Of course, my lord."

"Now go," Tywin commanded of her, and Sansa hastily obeyed. She curtsied hastily again and turned to leave.

She left the door and turned right into Joffrey.


	9. Hasty

**A/N: Okay, mature chapter. Again, sorry if this is too soon. And as always- if you read, be mature. And enjoy! Reviews, critiques, comments are always welcome! :)**

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Tyrion's gait swayed much more than was usual as Sansa followed him back to their bed chambers. She had rushed to catch up with him after she had unexpected run into the future King on her way out after Tywin stopped her. Sansa clasped her hands before her waist, her heart heavy in her chest.

She was shivering in fright from the encounter with Joffrey; he had grabbed her elbow tightly as he pulled her close to him. Tremors flooded down her legs as she felt his warmth against her arm. _I am sorry I have not visited you, my lady_, He had whispered. _But you will get your Lannister baby soon enough. And Casterly Rock will be a true promise._ Sansa had pulled away from him, excusing herself from his presence and making the claim that her lord husband would be very angry if she did not follow promptly. Something which Sansa could not say with conviction.

Tyrion was silent as he threw open the door to the chambers, making his way to the wine which never ran dry in the room. Sansa closed the door gently behind her, standing awkwardly at the entrance of the chambers as she watched her husband seek solace in a cup.

"My lord-" She began.

"No need for talk, Sansa, now you understand more of the monster you have been chained to."

"I am sorry, my lord, I did not mean to-" Sansa was unsure of what to say.

"No, Sansa," He looked up at her, the cup in hand. "You have no need for apologies."

"I did not mean to shame you, Tyrion," She hung her head. "I should have not responded to her grace, I should have let you speak with your sister. I meant to cause no harm." _He is my only protection, remember that you stupid girl!_ She scolded herself. She did not do it all for her gain; she was finding a true sadness at Tyrion's twisted brow and screwed mouth.

"No, no, no, Sansa," Tyrion shook his head. "Do not apologize for the harm my family has done to you." He took a gulp of wine.

"My lord, please," Sansa hated that cup now, nearly as much as she hated Joffrey's face.

"Sansa, you have always been a sweet girl," Tyrion looked up at her, his blue eyes soft underneath his thick scarred brow.

"What happened?" She dared ask. Tyrion looked up at her with a puzzled expression."I mean, with your mother," She knew the question was dangerous and she shook her head, trying to wash her words away. She moved from where she stood, in an attempt to return to her window seat. She was stopped when Tyrion reached out and grabbed her hand.

"She died in childbirth," His answer was short and quick, but she could feel the sorrow behind the words he tried to keep from shaking. "My life for hers."

"Oh," Sansa paused in her escape, turning to look down at him. "but- you did not intend to kill your mother."

"No, I suppose I did not," The left side of Tyrion's mouth bent up into a sad smirk. Sansa sank to her knees before him, looking into his eyes.

"I do not see a monster, my lord." She assured him. "The monster sat at the end of the table in the other room." She reached out hesitantly, not sure if she truly wanted to touch him yet. But the pain that was in his eyes for a deed he had no true desire to commit broke her heart. So her hand reached forward and brushed a lock from his forehead, a simple gesture which barely required her to make contact with him.

Her hands were trembling as she reached forward and she willed them to stand still, but they refused to yield. Tyrion noticed, seizing her hand by the wrist. She watched his thick fingers let go of her slender wrist and felt them run under the curve of her palm, turning the back of her hand towards the ceiling. He gripped her fingers in-between his thumb and fingers, pressing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

"Do not think I am a gentle lion, my lady," Tyrion let go of her fingers. "I just will not hurt you."

Sansa sighed, her mouth dropping open as she looked away from him. He gently reached forward to touch her cheek. She licked her lips and looked back to him, unsure of how to react. He smirked again. "My family is much more ruthless toward wolves than I am. You do best to mind your tongue, and when you have learned the task of mastering it, please do tell me."

Sansa chuckled gently, standing once again, gripping her elbows as she walked past him. A sense of dread weighted her limbs. _I must, before Joffrey keeps his promise_. So she began to loosen the ties of her dress with the sound of Tyrion drinking his glass of wine noisily behind her. Her fingers fumbled over the strings, still startled by the King's promise. She pulled them violently, pulling the dress from her shoulders and pushing it to the floor. The rustle of clothe caused Tyrion to turn from his wine to his wife.

"Sansa, no," Tyrion frowned, his brows furrowing as he looked her over.

"Do I have to keep reminding my lord of his promise." She mustered the courage she had discovered earlier at the table. _He will not savage me the way his kin will_. She told herself.

"Sansa, please, I am not so sure this is the best idea." He set the wine cup down and approached her, reaching out to grab her hand in his.

"You promised," Sansa raised her eyebrows at him

"Sansa-" Tyrion began again. She steeled her herself and pulled her hand out of his.

He shook his head and left her, crossing to the other side of the room. Sansa pushed her small clothes from her body, extinguishing some candles on her way to the bed. _This is nothing like how I imagined my marriage_. She gulped, her hand resting on her belly. _If only children came from the gods wood. Pray hard enough and they lay a baby before your feet. _

_But he could be so much worse. He could be Joffrey where rape would be common. He has not raped you, stupid girl, like his father commanded him. You have asked him to take your maidenhead. You asked him to help you have a child. _Sansa silenced her thoughts, assuring herself that a small boy would be worth the trouble. _I will keep him from horrors of a bitter family_.

Tyrion was beside her soon enough, his weight pressing down on the mattress. She turned her head to look at him. His face was shadowed in the dimmed light. Sansa forced her lips to smile at him, forced herself to reach over and place the knuckle of her hand on his chest. Tyrion reached up and took her fingers in his hand.

"We can stop, now." He said. Sansa leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. A sigh escaped from his nose and his hand went up to cradle her cheek. "Sansa, you are more clever than any will give you credit." He then tilted his head upward and took her mouth in his.

The taste of wine flooded her mouth again as his wet lips pulled at hers. She kissed him back this time, her body twisting so that her elbows were now at the sides of his face, her breasts pressed against his chest. Her hips were turned so that her bum and legs were still on the bed. She hovered over him as they kissed feeling her body react violently to his touches. The warmth between her legs became noticeable and her womanhood ached. Sansa's heart was in her throat, but the sharp smacks of their kisses filled her ears. She shuddered when she felt Tyrion's hand grab her breast, pinching her nipple.

She was expecting him to turn her over on her back and get the act over with. Instead she found her legs straddling his smaller hips, she was on her knees with her elbows still bracing her above his head. Her back had a small arch in it as she fit herself over his slightly smaller torso. She continued to kiss him, her body flushing and her limbs aching in delight. He stopped kissing her for a moment, laying his head back to look into her eyes.

"This only works if you allow me to put myself inside of you." His voice was tight. "Or do you just enjoy being a tease and wish to torment me more?"

Sansa rolled her eyes, a smile crossing her lips. "We are the wrong way," she rolled her eyes.

"Oh my innocent wife," he laughed. "Sit."

She looked at him puzzled, but obeyed. She could feel his manhood now, pushing against the inside of her leg. She had not yet blushed, but the feeling of him caused her to redden. The light, though brighter than the first time, was dim enough to hide her blush.

"Sansa, you have to-" Tyrion's eyebrows rose, pulling his scar taught against his face. She looked back at him, her eyes widening.

"I have to...touch...it?" Sansa could not hold back her slight disgust.

"As I am sure you would have had to help Lord Willas if it came down to it." Tyrion's voice was filled with sarcasm, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Sansa groaned as she gently reached between the two, her chest sinking close to him. "It brings your beautiful tits so much closer to me, anyways." He mused. Sansa growled as she helped him find her, though it was a fumbling and awkward process. He took to settling on his elbows, pushing himself more upright so he could kiss and nip as her neck. He let out a soft moan into the skin when she righted him.

"I am assuming- oh!." Sansa was taken by surprise when he pushed upright and she could feel him slide between her legs. He chuckled underneath her as he pulled away from her hips. He pushed into her again and Sansa caught her breath. It was a strange but comforting feeling, the pain from the first night gone.

Sansa felt the tightness return in the pit of her tummy. She found that her body knew more of what to do than she consciously did, her hips pressing against his. Before long she was doing more work than he was as the tightness in her belly continued to build. Her breathing began to become ragged and she gripped the sheets next to his head. Her hips pressed harder against him, the tightness giving way to an itching burn. She was not sure what her body was doing, but she wanted it to continue.

She was close to something, her belly and womanhood screaming, and she slowed her motion afraid of hurting herself. The feeling began to subside and she grew frustrated. Tyrion was groaning underneath her, his eyes closed and his fingers tangled in the hair which was falling from her shoulders.

"Sansa," His eyes opened now and he looked up at her. She bit her lip nervously and return to the motion which caused her tummy to tighten. And the feeling was back. Sansa's body was aching and she found a strange desire to make noises in her throat. Small groans which seemed to come with each stir of her hips.

"Shhh," Tyrion pulled her tight against his body, one hand stroking her head and the other grabbing her tightly. He kissed her again.

And then Sansa's body began to sing. She let out a moan and her body pushed as hard as it could into his hips.

Tyrion's hand flew across Sansa's mouth as he began to move his hips as she stopped. The grip over her lips tightened, the hand wrapped in her hair pulled the strands taught. His hips pushed into hers now and she could feel the wet heaviness between her legs. Her arms shook and she collapsed on the bed next to him.

"As arousing at it is to hear your pleasure," Tyrion smiled as he looked over to her. "Unless you want the castle knowing what you are in the midst of it is best you try to keep from making so much noise."

Sansa frowned as she looked over at him. "I did not mean to-"

"Shhh," Tyrion silenced her with a kiss on her lips. He pulled a blanket over her naked body and then placed a gentle kiss on her temple. "Now sleep, my brave wolf, and dream of the north."

She was drifting to the land of dreams as she felt him leave the bed. She almost reached out to him, asked him to stay just a few more moments. But she did not really want him here, not after she just performed such a private ceremony with him. _I barely like him_. She thought sleepily. But further contemplations were silenced by dreams.


	10. Terrors

**A/N: Thank you for your kind words of encouragement and advice in the reviews. I appreciate immensely the time taken to write me something concerning my story!**

* * *

Sansa's chest was pounding as she ran down the cobbled alleyway, her soft slippers making scrapping sound down the street. The fear in her made her stomach churn as she bolted past the shops, her heavy hair, piled and styled atop her head, pulled against her scalp and caused her head to pound with the rhythm of her feet. She could hear their angry cries, their calls for her to be raped and killed. It was just a bit faster to the castle, she could make her way to her chambers, lock herself inside.

_He'll protect me, I just need to get there_. She screamed internally, trying to will her already aching legs to push harder, propel herself further. She could feel hands grab her, fingers tangling into her garments. She was running out of time, out of space between her and the men. She pulled away, but was sent flying back into the arms of her pursuer. His arms were covered in black hair, one wrapped around her throat as she screamed and kicked in terror. She knew what was going to happen. She had been here before.

He dragged her into a nearby house, the floor was lined with straw which pressed into her sides. His friends grabbed her arms, pulling her hands to either side of her. She tried to kicked, tried to pull her hands from the grips of the men. She let out a scream, her throat aching from the cries. But the men only grabbed her legs, pulling her small clothes from her, ripping her skirts away from her hips. The straw pushed into the soft, delicate skin of her bum and scratching the back of her thighs. The two other men grabbed her ankles.

She realized the four men shined in the sunlight streaming through the window. They were wearing armor, their helms catching the rays. White cloaks spilled down their backs, wrapped about their shoulders and hung with about their necks with a gold chain. She barely had the time to let the word '_Gold Cloaks_' cross her mind before she looked at the man stripping his pants between her legs.

His arms were no longer black, instead the skin was lined with golden hairs. She did not need to look at the cold green eyes and the permanent smirk across his face to know who it was. She screamed again, pulling her shoulders with all her might. The guards hands were strong, they pulled at her feet, pressing her to the floor.

The floor was no longer the floor, it was a mattress filled with bones. Sansa looked up to see Joffrey pushing his breeches away from his delicate hips. Sansa closed her eyes, arched her back, and tried to pull away. Tears wet her cheeks as she sobbed, her lips trembling...

* * *

And then she was being shaken, her shoulders held fast by hands. She shot awake, sitting upright and trying to move away from the grip. "No, please, no," Sansa wept, locking her hands around her bare breasts.

"Sansa?" A deep voice spoke next to her. Sansa shivered, not from the chill in the air but from the fear which had overtaken her limbs. Her chest pounded as she gasped for air, kicking away the sheets from her feet. They wrapped around her ankles like the hands in her dreams. She choked on her tears as she pulled her feet under her, wrapping her knees to her chest.

"My lady, what has happened?" Tyrion looked up at her from the bed. She blinked, her stomach still churning with the bile she felt while running.

"Nothing," she swallowed the liquid which was climbing up her throat. "It was nothing."

"Tears, screaming, and tremendous kicking does not equal nothing," His voice was stern, but she could hear the concern behind it. She was still shaking, her back completely bare. "Why don't you slip into your shift, we can have some wine together."

"It is late, my lord," She said. Tyrion made a snorting disapproval.

"And my sleep is shit as usual," He leapt from the bed, he came around to her side and held out his hand, his head bowed gently. _Like when he had me clothed in front of Joffrey's_ _throne_.

Shakily she extended her arm, taking it. She placed one bare foot on the chilled floor next to the bed, soon followed by the other. She trembled as she stood, partly from the cold now. She placed a hand over her breasts whose nipples were erect from the chill.

"Wrap the blanket about you," Tyrion commanded. Sansa complied, her mind foggy as she stiffly drew the silk around her body.

Tyrion waddled to the other side of the room as she stood before the bed, frozen and unable to move. She could still see Joffrey's cold blue eyes staring her down; his hands wrapping around her calves as his nails dug into the flesh. Sansa wanted to scream again, but the sound was caught in her throat. It was choking her and she began to gasp for breath.

Tyrion had returned and took her by the hand once more, white clothing was clasped in hand. "My lady," He held the garment out to her. She took it, realizing it was her shift. She let go of the blanket, pulling the shift over her head, over her long body, and hugged her body close when she had put it on.

Tyrion had a frown on his twisted face, he held his hand out to her once more. Sansa took it with a still tremoring hand. He led her to the chaise before the dying fire where she stood as a statue, looking dully at the coals before her, unable to focus on their glowing.

"Sit, Sansa," Tyrion's voice was far away, in her mind he was not in front of her. She slowly sank to the cushions behind her, never able to take her eyes off the fire. Tyrion left her side once more and she felt her fear clutching her throat again. She was going to suffocate on the stone in her throat, she was gasping for air as it was. Tyrion returned to her side with the sheet once more. He held it out to her and she took it absentmindedly, wrapping it around her arms.

"I will be back in a moment, my lady." Tyrion reached out and took hold of the hand she was using to prop herself up on her thigh. She looked at him when he took it, her hand relaxing. But she could not make herself respond so she only looked at him. He sighed and left once more.

The room was still cold and her muscles bunched up around her neck and shoulders and arms and she let out another cry. A wave of exhaustion overtook her suddenly and she wanted to crawl back to the bed to hide underneath the sheets. But she could not find the energy. _I am a Stark, I can be brave_. She told herself. She could not shake the paralysis from her limbs, however. _He is going to come in the dark, he is going to have his guards hold me down just like he did in my visions. Dreams oft tell us what is to happen, don't they?_

She had not noticed that Tyrion had returned, it was not until Bronn came into the room that she realized there were other people there. She jumped at the dark movement she saw out of the corner of her eye.

"It is okay, Sansa," Tyrion held his hands out in front of him, palms down. "It is just Bronn, I asked him to stir up the fire."

"M'lady's seemed to have her a bit of a shock." Bronn chuckled as he knelt before the fire. "I don't understand why I'm doing this job, don't you have a squire?"

Tyrion did not look impressed with the question. Bronn rolled his eyes as he added some more squares of wood to the coals, blowing gently as he prodded the logs. Sansa watched as the fire grew, warmth beginning to kiss her bare toes. Tyrion was still standing next to Bronn, he had not approached her since he had left last.

"Now go and fetch my squire, tell him I need him to ask the kitchens for some warmed spiced wine." Tyrion ordered.

"Do I look like your errand boy?" Bronn scoffed.

"Yes, at the moment you do." Tyrion commanded. "Now go!"

Bronn turned with a scowl, but left the room nonetheless. Tyrion stood in front of the fireplace, his back to her and his hands folded behind him. The fire began to melt away her stiffness and the exhaustion became more powerful. She found herself sliding onto the chaise, her head resting on the back of furniture. She wanted so badly to be held again. _Mother used to hold me after I had bad dreams. _She felt the tears which had dammed at the back of her eyes, they pricked the corners of her vision. _She would pull me into her lap, wrap her arms around me, and sing. But I always had nightmares about red blemishes on my face or Sansa ruining one of my dresses. _A tear tickled the curve of her cheek as it slid free of its well.

Tyrion did not move until Podrick entered the chambers, two cups on a serving plate balanced on his hand. "M'lord," He mumbled sleepily. "Is there anything more I can do for you?"

Tyrion looked up at the boy and shook his head. "Return to sleep," He commanded the boy. Sansa watched him leave, her body still not wishing to move from its slumped position. "My lady," Tyrion held out a cup. Sansa willed her arm to move, to take it from him.

The cup was warm to the touch, and the smell which wafted from the steam was sweet and sharp. She knew exactly what it was- spiced wine. She sat her heavy body upwards and took a gulp. The liquid was hot as it chased down her thickened throat and warmed her chest. It was a bit strong for her usual taste, but now it bothered her little. Tyrion took the other cup in his hand and took a draught. She watched him balk for a moment, before he came to her side. She looked down at him, still silent.

"Sansa," He reached out to grab her hand. She took his offered hand in hers, squeezing the stunted fingers and warm palms. He looked up at her, a soft grimace on his lips. She lay back on the chaise once more. He hesitated before climbing onto the chaise next to her.

She looked at him with cautious eyes, but the lump of fear in her throat had subsided when he was near. The sight of Bronn had even steadied some of her nerves. _I will not totally be alone when Joffrey comes_. She thought. Tyrion looked up at her, pulling her hand close to him and kissing the knuckles of her fingers.

"My lady, are you feeling better?" He asked. Sansa did not realize how close the tears were in her eyes. She continued gazing at the fire, but nodded her head in answer. Tyrion's thumb rolled over the back of her hand. Her eyes glanced down to see him stroke her so tenderly.

"It was a nightmare," She forced herself to say, her gaze returning to the dancing flames of the fire.

"And here I thought it was the most fantastic dream you have ever had," Tyrion responded dryly. "Forgive me," He quickly responded.

"I am sorry, my lord, I did not mean to cause a stir this evening." She said. Tyrion's sigh was audible.

"No, Sansa, how many times must I insist that you are no prisoner, there are no apologies to be made for terrible dreams."

Sansa took another drink of her warmed spice wine, the drink calming her nerves. She shivered as the image of Joffrey circled again and again around her mind. So she turned to pushing away the cold by drinking every bit of the hot drink, the heat spreading across her chest and into her belly.

"Come, my lady, you should return to sleep." Tyrion touched her arm gently.

"It was Joffrey," Sansa was not sure what drew her to confession. The words were pushed out by the heat of the wine, perhaps?

"What do you mean?" Tyrion had finished his cup as well; she noticed when he turned and looked at her, one of his hands wrapping around her back. She shook her head.

"My night terror," She answered. "I have had them since the riot in King's Landing last year. Men chasing me, grabbing at me. Trying to-" She could not bring herself to say the word. It would mean that her fears were real. "And now the man who is going to...hurt me, he has Joffrey's face."

Tyrion could not answer. Not at first. He pushed himself from the chaise and to the floor, taking the wine cup in hand. He walked across the room, gripping the cup. Sansa watched him.

"He threatened me," She was still unsure as to why she was telling him all of these secrets. "He threatened me that he would come when you were passed out. That he would—he would do what the man in my dream did."

She dared to look over at him. His lip was twisted, his jaw tight as his anger grew. The shadows of the firelight accentuated his scars, making him in a gargoyle in the night. She felt no fear toward him now. His eyes looked at her for a moment, before he turned and walked further from her, throwing his cup into the nearest wall. Sansa jumped at the sound.

She felt herself grow more sleepy even after the sound startled her, as the fire warmed her bones and the wine made her head swim. She did not want to deal with more anger. She stood, wrapping the sheets around her shoulders. Tyrion turned, his lips were pressed together. When he looked up at her, however, she saw sadness, no, pity in his eyes.

"I do want to sleep now," She said to him. Tyrion nodded his head.

"Yes, of course." He agreed. He approached her, slowly at first until he saw she did not cower. When he reached her he took her hand in his. She wrapped her fingers around the soft fingers of her lord husband's hand. She could feel her legs grow heavy beneath her.

She returned to the bed with her hand in his, too tired to think of the touch between them. She climbed up onto the mattress, letting go of Tyrion's hand.

"Please," she looked down at him, pulling the sheet tighter around her body. She was not entirely sure what she was asking truly.

"My lady?" He looked at her.

"Can you stay with me for awhile?" She asked. _He is not your mother_. She scolded herself. Tyrion's lips pressed to the right in a slight grin.

"If my lady wife wishes." He replied.

Sansa sat up and fixed the sheet back on the bed, pulling the over blanket back into place from where she had kicked it free. Tyrion, meanwhile, returned to the other side of the bed. Sansa lay back onto the bed, the mattress pillowing around her body. She turned her head to look at the small man. He settled into the place next to her. She moved herself closer to him, daring to place her head near his side.

"Sansa," He shifted next to her. She felt his arm around her, pulling her closer to his chest. She finally closed the gap, too tired to hold onto her revulsion and hatred toward the House Lannister. She needed someone to hold her while she shivered with terror, and he offered her protection. A small sort of protection, but enough to make her feel safe.

She pressed her ear to his chest hearing the thumping of his heart. She was comforted by the rhythm, her eyes closing once again. She felt Tyrion place a kiss in the mess of her hair atop her head. Her arm absently wrapped about his torso and she fell asleep against his undulating chest.


End file.
